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Before any of the boys could stop him, he rose to his feet and 
sent a bullet flying from his ponderous revolver. 

Frontispiece. 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 
THE EAGLE PATROL 


Bv 


LIEUT. HOWARD PAYSON 




NEW YORK 

HURST & COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 


<3 


COPYRIGHT, 1911, 

BY 

HURST & COMPANY 


<£C!.A2S3012 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE 
EAGLE PATROL 


CHAPTER I. 

SCOUTS ON THE TRAIT. 

The dark growth of scrub oak and pine parted 
suddenly and the lithe figure of a boy of about 
seventeen emerged suddenly into the little clear- 
ing. The lad who had so abruptly materialized 
from the close-growing vegetation peculiar to 
the region about the little town of Hampton, on 
the south shore of Long Island, wore a well- 
fitting uniform of brown khaki, canvas leggings 
of the same hue and a soft hat of the campaign 
variety, turned up at one side. To the front of 
his headpiece was fastened a metal badge, re- 
sembling the three-pointed arrow head utilized 
5 


6 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


on old maps to indicate the north. On a metal 
scroll beneath it were embossed the words — “Be 
Prepared/’ 

The manner of the badge’s attachment would 
have indicated at once, to any one familiar with 
the organization, that the lad wearing it was 
the patrol leader of the local band of Boy Scouts. 

Gazing keenly about him on all sides of the 
little clearing in the midst of which he stood, the 
boy’s eyes lighted with a gleam of satisfaction on 
a largish rock. He lifted this up, adjusted it to 
his satisfaction and then picked up a smaller 
stone. This he placed on the top of the first and 
then listened intently. After a moment of this 
he then placed beneath the large underlying rock 
and at its left side a small stone. 

Suddenly he started and gazed back. From 
the distance, borne faintly to his ears, came far- 
off boyish shouts and cries. 

They rose like the baying of a pack in full cry. 
Now high, now low on the hush of the midsum- 
mer afternoon. 

“They picked the trail all right,” he remarked 


THE EAGLE PATROL 7 

to himself, with a smile, “maybe I’d better leave 
another sign.” 

Stooping he snapped off a small low-growing 
branch and broke it near the end so that its top 
hung limply down. 

“Two signs now that this is the trail,” he re- 
sumed as he stuck it in the ground beside the 
stone sign. “Now Pd better be off, for they are 
picking my tracks up fast.” 

He darted off into the undergrowth on the 
opposite side of the clearing, vanishing as sud- 
denly and noiselessly as he had appeared. 

A few seconds later the deserted clearing was 
invaded by a scouting party of ten lads ranging 
in years from twelve to sixteen. They were all 
attired in similar uniforms to the leader, whom 
they were tracing, with but one exception they 
wore their “Be Prepared” badges on the left arm 
above the elbow. Some of them were only en- 
titled to affix the motto part of the badge — the 
scroll inscribed with the motto. These latter 
were the second-class scouts of the Eagle Patrol. 
The exception to the badge-bearers was a tall, 


8 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


well-knit lad with a sunny face and ‘wavy, brown 
hair. His badge was worn on the left arm, as 
were the others, but it had a strip of white braid 
sewn beneath it. This indicated that the bearer 
was the corporal of the patrol. 

As the group of flushed, panting lads emerged 
into the sandy space the corporal looked sharply 
about him. Almost at once his eye encountered 
the “spoor” left by the preceding lad. 

“Here’s the trail, boys,” he shouted, “and to 
judge by the fresh look of the break in this 
branch it can’t have been placed here very long. 
The small stone by the large one means to the 
left. We’ll run Rob Blake down before long for 
all his skill if we have good luck.” 

“Say, Corporal Merritt,” exclaimed a perspir- 
ing lad, whose “too, too solid flesh” seemed to 
be melting and running off his face in the form 
of streaming moisture, “don’t we get a rest?” 

A general laugh greeted poor Bob or Tubby 
Hopkins’ remark. 

“I always told you, Tubby, you were too fat 
to make a good scout,” laughed Corporal Mer- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


9 

ritt Crawford, “this is the sort of thing* that will 
‘bant’ you — take some of that tubbiness off 
you.” 

“Say, Tubby, you look like a roll of butter at 
an August picnic,” laughed Simon Jeffords, one 
of the second-class scouts. 

“All right, Sim,” testily rejoined the aggrieved 
fat one, “I notice at that, though, that I am a 
regular scout while you are only a rookie.” 

“Come on, cut out the conversation,” exclaimed 
Corporal Crawford hastily, “while we are fussing 
about here, Rob Blake must be halfway home.” 

With a groan of comical despair from poor 
Tubby, the Boy Scouts darted forward once 
more. On and on they pushed across country, 
skillfully tracking their leader by the various 
signs they had been taught to know and of which 
the present scouting expedition was a test. 

Their young leader evidently intended them to 
use their eyes to the utmost for, beside the stone 
signs, he used blaze-marks, cut on the trees with 
his hunting knife. For instance at one place 
they would find a square bit of bark removed, 


10 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


with a long slice to the left of it. This indicated 
that their quarry had doubled to the left. The 
slice to the right of the square blaze indicated 
the reverse. 

Suddenly Corporal Crawford held up his hand 
as a signal for silence. The scouts came to an 
abrupt stop. 

From what seemed to be only a short distance 
in front of them they could hear a voice upraised 
apparently in anger. Replying to it were the 
tones of their leader. 

“Seems to be trouble ahead of some kind,” 
exclaimed Crawford. “Come on, boys.” 

They all advanced close on his heels — guided 
by the sound of the angry voice, which did not 
diminish in tone but apparently waxed more and 
more furious as they drew nearer. Presently 
the woodland thinned and the ground became 
dotted with stumps of felled timber and in a few 
paces more they emerged on a small peach or- 
chard at the edge of which stood Rob Blake and 
a larger and older boy. As Crawford and his fol- 
lowers came upon the scene the elder lad, who 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


li 


seemed beside himself with rage, picked up a 
large rock and was about to hurl it with all his 
might at Rob when the young corporal dashed 
forward and held his hand up to stay him. 

“Here, what’s all this trouble ?” he demanded. 

“You just keep out of it, Merritt Crawford,” 
said the elder lad, a hulking, thick-set youth with 
a mean look on his heavy features. “Pm just 
reading this kid here a lesson. This orchard is 
my father’s and mine and you’ll keep out of it 
in future or suffer the consequences, under- 
stand?” 

“Why, we aren’t doing any harm,” protested 
Rob Blake heatedly. 

“I don’t care what you are doing or not do- 
ing,” retorted the other, “this is my father’s or- 
chard and you’ll keep off it. You and the rest of 
you tin soldiers. I don’t want you stealing our 
peaches.” 

“I guess you are sore, Jack Curtiss, because 
you couldn’t get a boy scout patrol of your own — 
I guess that’s what the trouble is,” remarked 


12 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

Tubby Hopkins softly, but with a meaning 
look at the big lad. 

“You impudent little whipper-snapper/' roared 
Jack Curtiss, “if you weren’t such a shrimp I’d 
lick you for that remark, but you’re all beneath 
my notice. All I want to say to you is keep 
away from my orchard or I’ll give you a trim- 
ming.” 

“Suppose you start now,” said Rob Blake 
quietly, “if you are so anxious to show what a 
scrapper you are.” 

“Bah, I don’t want anything to do with you, 
I tell you,” rejoined Curtiss, turning away, with 
a rather troubled expression, however, for while 
he was a bully the big lad had no particular liking 
for a fight unless he was pretty sure that all the 
advantage lay on his side. 

“It was too bad you didn’t get that patrol of 
yours, Jack,” called the irrepressible Tubby 
after him as the big youth strode off across the 
orchard toward the old-fashioned farmhouse in 
which he lived with his father, a well-to-do 
farmer. “Never mind: better luck next time,” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


13 

he went on, “or maybe we'll let you into ours 
some time. ,, 

“You just wait,” roared the retreating bully, 
shaking his fist at the lads, “I'll make trouble for 
you yet.” 

“Well,” remarked Rob Blake, as Jack Curtiss 
strode off, “I guess the run is over for to-day. 
Too bad we should have come out on his land. 
Of course he feels sore at us; and I shouldn't 
wonder but he will really try to do us some mis- 
chief if he gets a chance.” 

As it was growing late and there did not seem 
much chance of restarting the “Follow the Trail” 
practice, that day at least, the boys strolled back 
through the woodland and soon emerged on a 
country road about three miles from Hampton 
Inlet, where they lived. 

While they are covering the distance perhaps 
the reader may care to know something about the 
cause of the enmity which Jack Curtiss enter- 
tained toward the lads of the Eagle Patrol. It 
had its beginning several months before when 
the boys of Hampton Inlet began to discuss form- 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


14 

in g a patrol of boy scouts. They all attended 
the Hampton Academy, and naturally the news 
that Rob Blake was going to try to organize a 
patrol soon spread through the school. 

Jack Curtiss, as soon as he heard what Rob — 
whom he considered more or less a rival of his — 
intended doing he also forwarded an application 
to the headquarters of the organization in New 
York. As Rob Blake's had been received first, 
however, and on investigation he was shown to 
be a likely lad for the leader, he was appointed 
and at once began the enrollment of his scouts. 

The bully was furious when he realized that 
he would be unable to secure an authorized patrol, 
and he and his cronies, two lads about his own 
age named Bill Bender and Sam Redding, had 
been busy ever since devising schemes to “get 
even" as they called it. None of these, however, 
had been effective and the encounter of that day 
was the first chance Jack had had to work off 
any of his rancor on Rob Blake's patrol. 

Young Blake was the only son of Mr. Albert 
Blake, the president of the local bank. His cor- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 15 

poral, Merritt Crawford, was the eldest of the 
numerous family of Jared Crawford, the black- 
smith and wheelwright of the little town, and 
Tubby Hopkins was the offspring of Mrs. 
Hopkins — a widow in comfortable circumstances. 
The other lads of the Patrol whom we shall meet 
as the story of their doings and adventures pro- 
gresses were all natives of the town, which was 
situated on the south shore of Long Island — as 
has been said — and on an inlet which led out to 
the Atlantic itself. 

The scouts trudged back into Hampton just 
at twilight and made their way at once to their 
armory — as they called it — which was situated 
in a large room above the bank of which Rob’s 
father was president. At one side of it was a 
row of lockers and each lad — after changing his 
uniform for street clothes — placed his “regi- 
mentals” in these receptacles. 

This done the lads broke up and started for 
their various homes. Rob and his young cor- 
poral left the armory together, after locking the 


i6 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


door and descending the stairs which led onto a 
side street. 

“I wonder if that fellow Curtiss means to 
carry out his threat of getting even?” said Craw- 
ford as they made their way down the street 
arm in arm, for their homes were not far apart 
and both on Main Street. 

“He’s mean enough to attempt anything,” re- 
joined Rob, “but I don’t think he’s got nerve 
enough to carry out any of his schemes. Hullo !” 
he broke off suddenly, “there he is now across the 
street by the post office, talking to' Bill Bender 
and Sam Redding. I’ll bet they are hatching up 
some sort of mischief. Just look at them look- 
ing at us. I’ll bet a doughnut they were talking 
about us.” 

“Shouldn't wonder,” agreed his companion, 
“By the way, I’ve got to go and see if there is 
any mail. Come on over.” 

The two lads crossed the street and as they 
entered the post office, although neither of them 
had much use for either of the bullies’ two chums, 
they nodded to them pleasantly. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


1 7 


“You kids think you’re pretty fine with your 
Eagle Patrol or whatever you call it, don’t you,” 
sneered Bill Bender, as they walked by. “I’ll 
bet the smell of a little real powder would make 
your whole regiment run to cover.” 

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” whispered 
the young corporal to Rob, who doubled up his 
fists and flushed angrily at the sneering tone Jack 
Curtiss’s friend had adopted. 

Rob restrained his anger with an effort, and 
by the time they emerged from the post office the 
trio of worthies — who, as Rob had rightly 
guessed, had been discussing them — had moved 
on up the street. 

“I had trouble with those kids myself this af- 
ternoon,” remarked Jack Curtiss with a scowl, 
as they wended their way toward a shed in the 
rear of Bill Bender’s home, which had been fitted 
up as a sort of clubroom. 

“What did they do to you?” incautiously in- 
quired Sam Redding, a youth as big as the other 
two, but not so powerful. In fact he was used 
more or less as a tool by them. 


1 8 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

“Do to me,” roared the bully, “what did / do 
to them, you mean.” 

“Well what did you do to them then?” asked 
Bill Bender, as they entered the clubroom before 
referred to and he produced some cigarettes, 
which all three had been strictly forbidden to 
smoke. 

“Chased them off my land,” rejoined the other, 
lighting a paper roll and blowing out a cloud of 
smoke, “you should have seen them run. If they 
want to play their fool games they’ve got to do it 
on the property of folks who’ll let them. They 
can’t come on my land.” 

“You mean your father’s, don’t you?” put in 
the unlucky Sam Redding. 

“Sam, you’ve got a head like a billiard ball,” 
retorted the bully, turning on the other, “it’ll be 
mine some day, won’t it? Therefore it’s as good 
as mine now.” 

Although he didn’t quite see the logic of the 
foregoing, Sam Redding gave a sage nod and 
agreed that his leader w T as right. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


19 

“Yes, those kids need a good lesson from some- 
body, chimed in Bill Bender. 

“I think we had better be the ‘somebodies’ to 
give it to them,” rejoined Jack Curtiss. “They 
are getting insufferable. They actually twitted 
me this afternoon with being sore at them be- 
cause I didn’t get my patrol — as if I really 
wanted one. That Blake kid is the worst of the 
bunch. Just because his father has a little money 
he gives himself all kinds of airs. My father is 
as rich as his, even if he isn’t a banker.” 

“I’ve been thinking of a good trick we can put 
up on them, but it will take some nerve to carry 
it out,” announced Bill Bender, after some more 
discussion of the lads of the Eagle Patrol. 

“Out with it, then,” urged the bully, “what is 
it?” 

In a lowered tone Bill Bender sketched out his 
scheme in detail, while Jack and Sam nodded 
their approval. At length he ceased talking and 
the other two broke out into a delighted laugh, 
in which malice as much as merriment prevailed. 

“It’s the very thing,” exclaimed Jack. “Bill, 


20 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

you’re a genius. We’ll do it as soon as possible. 
If that doesn’t take some starch out of those 
tin soldiers nothing will.” 

Half an hour later the three cronies parted for 
the night. Sam went to his home near the water- 
front, for his father was a boat builder, and Jack 
started to walk the three miles to his father’s 
farm in the moonlight. His way took him by 
the bank. As he passed it he gazed up at the 
windows of the armory on which was lettered 
in gilt: “Eagle Patrol of the Boy Scouts of 
America.” 

“That’s a slick idea of Bill’s,” said the bully 
to himself, “I can hardly wait till we get a chance 
to carry it out.” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


21 


» 


CHAPTER II. 

A CRUISE TO THE ISLAND. 

“Whatever are you doing, Rob?” 

It was the morning after the consultation of 
Jack Curtiss and his cronies, and Corporal Craw- 
ford was looking over the fence into his leader’s 
yard. 

Rob was bending over a curious-looking ap- 
paratus, consisting of a bent stick held in a bow- 
shape by a taut leather thong. The appliance 
was twisted about an upright piece of wood — 
sharpened at one end — which was rotated as 
the lad ran the bow back and forth across it. 

Presently smoke began to rise from the flat 
piece of timber into which the point of the up- 
right stick had been boring and depositing saw- 
dust, and Rob, by industriously blowing at the 
accumulation, presently caused it to burst into 
flame. 

“There I’ve done it,” he exclaimed triumph- 


22 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

antly, arising with a flushed face from his 
labors. 

“Done what?” inquired young Crawford inter- 
estedly. 

“Made fire in the Indian way,” replied Rob 
triumphantly. 

“I thought they made it by rubbing two sticks 
together.” 

“Only book Indians do that,” replied Rob, “FU 
tell you it took me a time to get the hang of it, 
but I've got it now.” 

“It’s quite a stunt, all right,” commented the 
corporal admiringly. 

“You bet, and it’s useful, too,” replied Rob. 
“I’ll put the bow and drill in my pocket, and then 
any time we get stuck for matches we'll have no 
trouble in making a signal smoke or lighting 
cooking fires.” 

“Say, I've got some news for you,” went on 
young Crawford, “did you know that Sam Red- 
ding has entered that freak motor boat he's been 
building in the yacht club regatta? He's out for 
the club trophy.” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


23 


‘‘No, is he, though ?” exclaimed Rob, keenly 
interested. “Then the crew and skipper of the 
Flying Fish will have to look alive. I know that 
Sam’s father helped him out with that boat and 
put a lot of new wrinkles in it. I didn’t think, 
though, he’d have it ready in time for the races.” 

The boys referred to the coming motor-boat 
races which were to take place shortly on the 
inlet at Hampton. Like most of the other lads 
in the seashore town, Merritt and Rob had a lot 
of experience on the water and some time before 
had built a speedy motor boat from knock-down 
frames. The Flying Fish , as they called her, was 
entered for the main event referred to, the prize 
for which was a silver cup, donated by the mer- 
chants of the town. There were several other 
entries in the race, but Rob and his crew, con- 
sisting of Merritt and Tubby Hopkins, confi- 
dently expected the Flying Fish to easily lead 
them all. 

“I wonder if the Sam Redding can show her 
stern to the Flying Fish?” mused Rob. “I’d like 
to take a good look at her.” 


24 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


“Let’s go down to Redding’s boat yard,” sug- 
gested Merritt; “she’s lying there on the ways. 
I don’t suppose any one would object to our sizing 
her up.” 

Rob hailed the suggestion as a good one. 

“We can call in for Tubby on the way,” he 
said, as he darted into the house after his hat. 

The boys dropped in at Tubby’s house on their 
way to the water-front, and received from the 
stout youth some additional details regarding 
Sam’s boat. 

“She’s a hydroplane,” volunteered Tubby, 
“and Tom Jennings, down at the yard, says she’s 
as fast as a race horse.” 

“A hydroplane? — that’s one of those craft that 
cut along the top of the water like a skimming 
dish, isn’t it?” asked Merritt. 

“That’s the idea,” responded Rob. “They’re 
supposed to be as speedy as anything afloat in 
smooth water.” 

Thus conversing they reached the boat-build- 
ing yard of Sam Redding’s father and were 
greeted by Tom Jennings, a big good-natured 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


25 

ship carpenter. “Hullo, Tom ! Can we see that 
new boat of Sam's ?” inquired Rob. 

“Sure, I guess there’s no objection,” grinned 
Tom, “come right this way. There she is, over 
there by that big winch.” 

Report had not erred apparently as to the novel 
qualities of Sam Redding’s speed craft. She was 
about twenty-five feet long, narrow and painted 
black. She was perfectly flat-bottomed, her un- 
derside being deeply notched at frequent inter- 
vals. On the edge of those notches she was sup- 
posed to glide over the water when driven at 
top speed. 

“She certainly looks like a winner,” commented 
Rob, as he gazed at her clean, slender lines and 
sharp bow. 

“She’s got wonderful speed,” Tom Jennings 
confided. “We tried her out the other night 
when no one was around. But I don’t think that 
in rough water she’ll be much good.” 

“No, I’d prefer the Flying Fish for the waters 
hereabouts,” agreed Rob, “it’s liable to come on 
rough in a hurry and then a chap who was out 


26 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

in a dry-goods box, like that thing, would be in 
troubled 

“What are you calling a dry-goods box?” de- 
manded an indignant voice behind them, and 
turning, the lads saw Sam Redding with a menac- 
ing Took on his face. A little way behind him 
stood Bill Bender and Jack Curtiss. 

“Oh, I beg your pardon, Sam,” said Rob. “I 
really admire your hydroplane very much, and I 
think it will give us a tussle for the trophy, all 
right; but I don't think she'd be much good in 
any kind of a sea-way.” 

“That's my business, you interfering little 
runt,” snapped Sam, who, with Bill Bender and 
Jack Curtiss to back him, felt very brave; though 
ordinarily he would have avoided trouble with 
the young scouts. “What are you doing spying 
around the yard here, anyhow ?” he went on inso- 
lently. 

“We are not spying,” indignantly burst out 
Merritt. “We asked Tom Jennings if we couldn't 
look at your hydroplane, as we were naturally 
interested in her, and he gave us permission.” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


27 

“Well, he had no business to,” growled Sam; 
“he ought to be attending to his work instead of 
showing a lot of nosy young cubs my new boat.” 

“They are capable of stealing your ideas,” 
chimed in Jack Curtiss, “and putting them on 
their own boat.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” laughed Rob, “as I said I 
wouldn’t want to have anything to do with such 
a contrivance except on a lake or a river.” 

“Well, you keep your advice and your ideas to 
yourself, and get out of this yard !” roared Sam, 
waxing bolder and bolder, and mistaking Rob’s 
conciliatory manner for cowardice. “I’ve a good 
mind to punch your head.” 

“Better come on and try it,” retorted Rob, pre- 
paring for the immediate onslaught which it 
seemed reasonable from Sam’s manner to ex- 
pect. 

But it didn’t come. 

Muttering something about “young cubs,” and 
“keeping the boat-yard gate locked,” Sam turned 
to his chums and invited them to come and try 
out his new motor in the shop. 


28 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

As the three chums had no desire to “mix it 
up with Sam on his own place/' as Tubby put 
it, they left the yard promptly, and walked on 
down the water-front to the wharf at which lay 
the Flying Fish , the fastest craft in the Hampton 
Motor Boat Club. Rob’s boat was, to tell the 
truth, rather broad of beam for a racer and drew 
quite a little water. She had a powerful motor 
and clean lines, however, and while not primar- 
ily designed solely for “mug-hunting,” had beaten 
everything she had raced with during the few 
months since the boys had completed her. The 
money for her motor had been given to Rob by 
his father, who was quite indulgent to Rob in 
money matters, having noticed that the lad al- 
ways expended the sums given him wisely. 

“Let’s take a spin,” suddenly suggested 
Tubby. 

“Nothing to prevent us,” answered Rob; 
“we’ve got plenty of time before dinner. Come 
on, boys.” 

The lads were soon on board and examining 
the gasolene tank, to see how much fuel they had 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


29 

on hand, and oiling up the engine. The fuel re- 
ceptacle proved to be almost full, so after filling 
the lubricant cups and attending to the batteries, 
they started up the engine — a powerful, three- 
cylindered, twelve-horse affair capable of driving 
the twenty-two foot Flying Fish through the 
water at twelve miles an hour or better. 

Just as Rob was casting off the head-line there 
came a hail from the wharf above them. 

“Ahoy, there, shipmates ! Where are yer 
bound fer this fine, sunny day?” 

The lads looked up to see the weather-beaten 
countenance of Captain Job Hudgins, one of the 
characters of the vicinity. He was a former 
whaler, and lived on a small island some dis- 
tance from Hampton. On his little territory he 
fished and grew a few vegetables, “trading in” 
his produce at the Hampton grocery stores for his 
simple wants. He, however, had a pension, and 
was supposed to have a “snug little fortune” laid 
by. His only companion in his island solitude 
was a big Newfoundland dog named “Skipper.” 
The animal stood beside its master on the dock 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


30 

and wagged its tail at the sight of the boys, 
whom it knew quite well from their frequent 
visits to the captain’s little island. 

“Hullo, captain!” shouted Rob, as the veteran 
saluted his three young friends. “Where’s your 
boat?” 

“Oh, her engine went busted, and I had ter 
leave her at the yard below fer repairs,” ex- 
plained the captain. “I wonder if yer boys can 
give me a lift back if yer goin’ near Topsail 
Island?” 

“Surest thing you know,” rejoined Rob hast- 
ily. “Come right aboard. But how are you go- 
ing to get off your island again if your motor is 
laid up here to be fixed ?” 

“Oh, I’ll use my rowboat,” responded the old 
mariner, clambering down into the Flying Fish. 
“Say, this is quite a right smart contraption, 
ain’t she?” 

“We think she is a pretty good little boat,” 
modestly replied Rob, taking his place at the 
wheel. “Now, then, Merritt, start up that en- 
gine.” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


3i 

“Hold on a minute !” shouted Tubby. “We 
forgot the dog.” 

Sure enough, Skipper was dashing up and 
down the wharf in great distress at the prospect 
of being deserted. 

“Put yer boat alongside that landin’ stage at 
the end uv the wharf,” suggested his master. 
“Skipper can get aboard from there, I reckon.” 

Rob steered the Flying Fish round to the float- 
ing landing, to which an inclined runway led 
from the wharf. Skipper dashed down it as soon 
as he saw what was happening, and was wait- 
ing, ready to embark, when the Flying Fish came 
alongside. 

“Poor old Skipper, I reckon yer thought we 
wuz goin’ ter maroon yer,” said Captain Job, as 
the animal jumped on board with a bark of 
“thanks” for his rescue. “I tell yer, boys, I 
wouldn’t lose that dog fer all the money in 
Rob’s father’s bank. He keeps good watch out 
on the island, I’ll tell yer.” 

“I didn’t think any one much came there, ex- 
cept us,” said Rob, as the Flying Fish headed 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


32 

away from the wharf and began to cut through 
the waters of the inlet. 

“Oh, yes; there’s others,” responded the old 
man. “That Jack Curtiss lad and his two chums 
are out there quite often.” 

“Bill Bender and Sam Redding, I suppose you 
mean,” said Tubby. 

“Those their names?” asked the captain. 
“Well, I don’t know any good uv any uv ’em. 
Old Skipper here chased ’em away from my 
melon patch the other day. I reckon they 
thought Old Scratch was after them, the way 
they run; but they got away with some melons, 
just the same.” 

The old man laughed aloud at the recollection 
of the marauders’ precipitous flight. 

That Jack Curtiss and his two cronies had 
made a rendezvous of the island was news to the 
boys, and not agreeable news, either. They had 
been planning a patrol camp there later on in 
the summer, and the bully and his two chums 
were not regarded by them as desirable neigh- 
bors. However, they said nothing, as they could 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


33 

not claim sole right to use the island, which was 
property that had been so long in litigation that 
it had come to be known as “No Man's Land” 
as well as by its proper name. The captain was 
only a squatter there, but no one cared to dis- 
turb him, and he had led the existence of a semi- 
hermit there for many years. 

The Flying Fish rapidly covered the calm 
waters of the inlet and was soon dancing over 
the swells outside. 

“I'm going to let her out a bit,” said Rob sud- 
denly ; “look out for spray.” 

“Spray don't bother a brine-pickled old salt 
like me,” laughed the captain. “Let her go.” 

The Flying Fish seemed fairly to leap forward 
as Merritt gave her the full power of her en- 
gine. As Rob had said, it did indeed behoove her 
occupants to look out for spray. The sparkling 
spume came flying back in sheets as she cut 
through the waves, but the boys didn't mind that 
any more than did their weather-beaten compan- 
ion. As for Skipper, he barked aloud in sheer 
doggish joy as the Flying Fish slid along as if 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


34 

she were trying to live up to her name to her 
utmost ability. 

“This is a good little sea boat,” remarked the 
captain, as they plunged onward. “She's as sea- 
worthy as she is speedy, I guess.” 

“She'll stand a lot of knocking about, and 
that's a fact,” agreed Rob. 

“Well,” remarked the old man, gazing about 
him, “it's a good thing that she is, fer, if I'm 
not mistaken — and I'm not often off as regards 
the weather — we are goin’ ter have quite a little 
blow before yer boys get back home.” 

“A storm?” asked Tubby, somewhat alarmed. 

“Oh, no; not what yer might call a storm” 
laughed the captain; “but just what we used to 
term a ‘capful uv wind.' ” 

“Well, so long as it isn't a really bad blow, it 
won't trouble the Flying Fish /' Rob assured him. 

“Hullo!” exclaimed the old man suddenly. 
“What queer kind uv craft is that ?” 

He pointed back to the mouth of the now dis- 
tant inlet, from which a curious-looking black 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


35 

craft was emerging at what seemed to be great 
speed. 

“IPs that hydroplane of Sam Redding's, for a 
bet!" cried Rob. “Here, Tubby, take the wheel 
a minute, while I put the glasses on her." 

The lad stood up in the heaving motor craft, 
steadying himself against the bulwarks by his 
knees, and peered through his marine-glasses. 

“It's the hydroplane, sure enough," he said. 
“By ginger, but she can go, all right ! Sam and 
Jack and Bill are all in her. They seem to be 
heading right out to sea, too." 

“Say!" exclaimed Tubby suddenly, “if it comes 
on to blow, as the captain said it would, they'll 
be in a bad fix, won’t they?" 

“In that ther shoe-box thing," scornfully ex- 
claimed the old captain, who had also been look- 
ing through the glasses, “why, I wouldn't give a 
confederate dollar bill with a hole in it fer their 
lives." 


36 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER III. 

BOY SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE. 

“Hadn’t we better put back and warn them ?” 
suggested Merritt rather anxiously, for he was 
alarmed by the confident manner in which the 
old seaman prophesied certain disaster to the 
hydroplane if the weather freshened. 

“No; see, she’s heading toward us. I guess 
they want a race,” cried Rob. “We’ll slow down 
a bit and let them catch up.” 

In a few moments the hydroplane was along- 
side. The yellow hood over her powerful engines 
glistened with the wet of the great bow-wave her 
speed had occasioned, and her powerful motor 
was exhausting with a roar like a battery of ma- 
chine guns. 

Crouched aft of the engine hood was Sam Red- 
ding, who held the wheel. Jack Curtiss and Bill 
Bender were in the stern. They sat tandem- 
wise in the narrow racing shell. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


37 


“Want a tow rope for that old stone dray of 
yours?” jeered Jack Curtiss, as the speedy little 
racer ranged alongside. 

He did not know that the Flying Fi*h was 
slowed down, and that although the hydroplane 
appeared to be capable of tremendous speed, she 
was not actually so very much faster than Rob’s 
boat. 

“Say, you fellows,” warned Rob, making a 
trumpet of his hands, “the captain says it’s com- 
ing on to blow before long. You’d better get 
back into the inlet with that craft of yours.” 

“Save your breath to cool your coffee,” shouted 
Sam Redding back at him, across the fifty feet 
or so of water that lay between the two boats. 
“We know what we are about.” 

“But you’re risking your lives,” shouted Mer- 
ritt. “That thing wouldn’t live ten minutes in 
any kind of a sea.” 

“Well, we’re not such a bunch of old women 
as to be scared of a little wetting,” jeered Jack 
Curtiss. “So long! We’ve got no time to wait 
for that old tub of yours.” 


3? 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


Before the boys could voice any more warn- 
ings, the hydroplane, which had been slowed 
down, dashed off once more. 

“ I don’t know what we are to do,” spoke up 
Merritt. “We can’t compel them to go in, and, 
after all, the captain may be mistaken.” 

“No, I’m not, my son,” rejoined the veteran. 
“I can smell wind — and see them ‘mare’s tails’ 
in the sky over yonder. They’re as full uv wind 
as a preacher is uv texts.” 

“Well, we’ve done our best to warn them,” 
concluded Rob. “If they are so foolhardy as to 
keep on, we can’t help it.” 

In half an hour more the boys had landed the 
captain at the little pier he had built on his island, 
and to which his rowboat was attached, and were 
ready to start back, good-bys having been said. 

“Hark!” exclaimed the captain, as Rob pre- 
pared to give the order to “Go ahead.” 

The boys listened, and heard a low, distant 
moaning sound, something like the deepest rum- 
bling notes of a church organ. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


39 

“That’s the wind comm’,” warned the captain. 
“Yer’d better be hurryin’ back.” 

With more hasty good-bys, the lads got under 
way at once. As they emerged from the lee of 
the island they could see that seaward the ocean 
was being rapidly lashed into choppy, white- 
crested waves by the advancing storm, and that 
the wind was freshening into a really stiff breeze. 

“Those fellows must be wishing they took our 
advice now if they are fools enough to have kept 
out,” said Merritt, as he slowed down the engine 
so as to permit the Flying Fish to ride the rising 
seas more easily. 

“Yes, I guess they’re doing some tall thinking,” 
agreed Tubby, as a wave caught the little Flying 
Fish “quartering” on her port bow, and sent a 
white smother of spray swirling back over her 
occupants. 

“That’s the time we got it,” laughed Rob, from 
the wheel, peering straight ahead. Suddenly he 
uttered a shout and pointed seaward. 

“Look there!” he shouted at the top of his 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


40 

voice. “There are those three fellows, and they’re 

in trouble, from the looks of it.” 

/ 

The others looked, and beheld, half a mile or 
so away, on the roughening waters, the hull of 
the hydroplane. She was tossing up and down 
like a cork, and apparently was drifting help- 
lessly, with her motor broken down, in the heavy 
sea. Her occupants seemed to be bailing her; 
but as they caught sight of the Flying Fish they 
stood up and waved frantically. 

“Yes, they’re in trouble, all right,” agreed 
Tubby. “And I suppose we’ve got to go and get 
them out of it.” 

Rob had already put the Flying Fish about and 
headed her for the distressed craft. As they 
drew near, Sam Redding began shouting : 

“Help, help! We’re sinking, we’re sinking!” 

Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender, drenched to the 
skin with spray and white with fright, said noth- 
ing, but a look of great relief came over their 
faces as the chums’ boat ranged alongside. 

“I don’t want to risk ramming my boat by 
coming right alongside,” shouted Rob. “You’ll 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


4i 

have to jump for it. Don’t be scared. We’ll pull 
you aboard.” 

The three youths on the water-logged hydro- 
plane looked somewhat alarmed at the prospect, 
but Rob knew that Jack and Bill could swim. He 
was not sure of Sam, but assumed, from the fact 
that he had lived by the sea all his life, that he 
was equally at home in the water. 

The hesitation of Jack Curtiss and his chum 
was over in a minute, as the hydroplane gave a 
plunge that seemed as if it would be her last. 
Lightly dressed as they were, in canvas trousers, 
sleeveless jerseys and yachting shoes, it was no 
trick at all for them to swim the few feet to the 
Flying Fish . As they leaped overboard, Sam 
lingered. 

“Come on, Sam,” shouted Jack, as the boys 
lugged the two dripping, sputtering castaways 
on board. 

“I — I can’t swim. You’ll have to come along- 
side for me,” stuttered the badly-scared Sam. 

“All right. Hold on, and we’ll do what we 
can,” hailed Rob, starting to carry out the risky 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


42 

manoeuvre of getting alongside the plunging hy- 
droplane in the heavy sea. 

In some never-to-be-explained manner, how- 
ever, the frightened Sam suddenly lost his bal- 
ance in the tossing racing boat, and, clawing 
desperately at her bulwarks to save himself, shot 
over the side. 

“He’ll drown!” shouted Jack Curtiss. “He 
can’t swim, and he’ll drown.” 

“If you knew that, why didn’t you stand by 
him?” truculently growled Tubby. 

Without an instant’s hesitation, Merritt threw 
off the jacket he had put on when it started to 
blow, and slipped off his shoes. He was over- 
board and striking out for the drowning boy be- 
fore those in the Flying Fish even realized his 
purpose. 

With swift, powerful strokes he got alongside 
Sam just as the owner of the hydroplane was 
going down for the third time. 

As the brave boy seized the struggling, fright- 
ened youth he felt himself gripped by the panic- 
stricken Sam in a frenzied hold of desperate in- 



As they shot to the surface he saw the Flying Fish 
bearing down on them. 











43 


THE EAGLE PATROL 

tensity. His arms were pinioned by the drown- 
ing wretch, and they both vanished beneath the 
waves. 

As they went under, however, Merritt man- 
aged to get one hand free, and recalling what he 
had read of what to do under such conditions, 
struck the other boy a terrific blow between the 
eyes. It stunned Sam completely, and, to his 
great relief, Merritt felt the imprisoning grip re- 
lax. He could then handle Sam easily, and as 
they shot to the surface he saw the Flying Fish 
bearing down on them, with four white, strained 
faces searching the tumbling waters. 

In a few moments the unconscious lad and his 
rescuer were hauled on board, and Rob, after 
congratulations, headed the Flying Fish for the 
mouth of the inlet, which was still some distance 
off. 

Tubby and Bill Bender laid Sam on his stom- 
ach, across a thwart, and started to try to get 
some of the salt water, of which he had swal- 
lowed great quantities, out of him. He soon gave 
signs of returning consciousness, and opened his 







0 










































































































. 

























































THE EAGLE PATROL 43 

tensity. His arms were pinioned by the drown- 
ing wretch, and they both vanished beneath the 
waves. 

As they went under, however, Merritt man- 
aged to get one hand free, and recalling what he 
had read of what to do under such conditions, 
struck the other boy a terrific blow between the 
eyes. It stunned Sam completely, and, to his 
great relief, Merritt felt the imprisoning grip re- 
lax. He could then handle Sam easily, and as 
they shot to the surface he saw the Flying Fish 
bearing down on them, with four white, strained 
faces searching the tumbling waters. 

In a few moments the unconscious lad and his 
rescuer were hauled on board, and Rob, after 
congratulations, headed the Flying Fish for the 
mouth of the inlet, which was still some distance 
off. 

Tubby and Bill Bender laid Sam on his stom- 
ach, across a thwart, and started to try to get 
some of the salt water, of which he had swal- 
lowed great quantities, out of him. He soon gave 
signs of returning consciousness, and opened his 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


44 

eyes just as Jack Curtiss was demanding to know 
if the Boy Scouts weren’t going to take the hy- 
droplane in tow. 

“Not much we’re not,” responded Rob. “I’m 
sorry to have to leave her ; but this sea is getting 
up nastier every minute, and there’s no way of 
getting a line to her without running more risk 
than I want to take. We’ve had one near-drown- 
ing and we don’t want another.” 

“If this was my boat, I’d pick Sam’s boat up,” 
sullenly replied the bully. 

“You ought to be mighty glad we came along 
when we did,” indignantly spoke up Tubby. 
“You’d have been in a bad fix if we hadn’t. In- 
stead of being thankful for it, all you can do is 
to kick about leaving the hydroplane.” 

An angry reply was on the other’s lips, but 
Bill Bender checked it by looking up and saying : 
“I guess the kid’s right, Jack. Let it go at that.” 

The bully glowered. He felt his pride much 
wounded at having been compelled to seek the 
aid of the boys whom he despised and hated. 

“I suppose you’ll go and blab it all over town 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


45 

about how you saved us/’ he sneered, as the Fly- 
ing Fish threaded her way through the tumbling 
waters at the mouth of the inlet and began mak- 
ing her way up it. 

“I don’t think we shall/' replied Rob quietly. 
“I mean to recommend Merritt, though, to head- 
quarters for his Red Honor.” 

“Oh, you mean that cheap, bronze medal thing 
on a bit of red ribbon !” sneered Jack. “Why, that 
isn’t worth much. You couldn’t sell it for any- 
thing but old junk. Why don’t they make them 
of gold?” 

“That 'bronze medal thing/ as you call it, is 
worth a whole lot to a Boy Scout,” rejoined Rob 
in the same even tone. “More than you can 
understand.” 

On their arrival at the yacht-club pier the boys 
were overwhelmed with questions, and a doctor 
was summoned for Sam, who, as soon as he found 
himself safe, began to groan and show most 
alarming symptoms of being seriously affected 
by his immersion. 

The boys were not able to conceal the fact that 


46 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

they had accomplished a brave rescue, and were 
overwhelmed with congratulations. Merritt es- 
pecially came in for warm praise and commen- 
dation. 

"You will certainly be granted your Red Hon- 
or, ’’ declared Mr. Wingate, who, besides being 
commodore of the Yacht Club, was one of the 
gentlemen whom Rob had persuaded to act as 
Scout Master for the new patrol. 

Merritt escaped from the crowd of admiring 
motor-boat men and boys as soon as he could, and 
hastened home for a change of clothes. On the 
arrival of Dr. Telfair, the village physician, he 
pronounced that there was nothing whatever the 
matter with Sam but a bad fright, and prescribed 
dry garments and hot lemonade. 

"Don’t I need any medicine?” groaned Sam, 
determined to make the most out of his tempor- 
ary notoriety. 

"No, you don’t,” growled the doctor ; "unless,” 
he added to himself, “they put up ' courage 9 in 
bottles.” 

"I suppose those boys will be more stuck up 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


47 

than ever now,” said Jack to Bill Bender, as, 
having perfunctorily thanked their rescuers, they 
started for home with the almost weeping Sam. 

“Sure to be/’ rejoined Bill. “IPs all your fault, 
Sam, for taking us out in that fool hydroplane/' 

“My fault! Well, I like that," stuttered out 
Sam. “You asked me to come, and you know 
I wanted to come back when the boys told us it 
might .come on to blow; but you called me a 
‘sissy/ and said I was too timid to own a boat." 

“Um — er — well," rejoined Bill, somewhat con- 
fused, “that's so. But anyhow, to return to what 
we were talking about, it's given those kids a 
great chance to set up as heroes." 

“Well, we can work that scheme we were talk- 
ing about last night on them just as soon as 
you're ready," suddenly remarked Jack. “That 
will give them something else to think about." 

“Oh, say, Jack, cut it out, won’t you?" pleaded 
Sam. “I don't like the kids any better than you 
do, but one of them saved my life to-day, and I'm 
not going into anything that will harm them." 

“Hear him rave!" sneered Jack. “Why, last 


48 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

night, when we talked it over, you thought it 
would be a prime joke. It isn’t as if it would 
hurt them. It’ll just give them something to 
study up, that’s all. They think they’re such fine 
trailers and tracers that it would be a shame not 
to give them a chance to show what they can 
do.” 

“That’s right, Sam,” cut in Bill; “it’s more of 
a joke than anything else.” 

“Well,” agreed Sam weakly, “if you put it in 
that way, I suppose it’s all right; but I tell you 
I don’t like it.” 

“Why, you’ll have the laugh of your young 
life after we’ve pulled the stunt off,” remarked 
Bill. “When will we do it, Jack?” 

“Not to-night, that’s certain,” responded the 
other. “I’ve had enough excitement for one 
day.” 

“What’s the matter with to-morrow night, 
then?” 

“I’m agreeable. How about you, Sam ?” 

“I wish you fellows would leave me out of it,” 
rejoined the bully’s timid chum. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


49 


“Like they left you out of their patrol, eh?” 
sneered Bill, knowing that he was touching the 
other on a tender spot. 

“All right, to-morrow night suits me,” snapped 
Sam, flushing angrily at Bill's remark — as that 
worthy had intended he should. “Here's my 
house. We'll meet at Bill's 'boudoir.' ” 

“Right you are,” chuckled Jack. “Oh, say, it's 
going to be the joke of the century I” 



V 


So 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER IV. 

SAM IN DIRE STRAITS. 

“Kree-ee-ee !” 

Merritt paused the next morning in front of 
Tubby's home, and gave the “call” of the Eagle 
Patrol with a not uncreditable resemblance to the 
scream of a real eagle. 

The cry was instantly echoed — though in a 
rather thicker way — from inside the house, and 
in a minute Tubby, who knew that some one of 
the patrol must have uttered the call, appeared 
at his door, munching a large slice of bread and 
jam, although it was not more than an hour since 
breakfast. 

“Say, you, did you ever hear an eagle scream 
with his mouth full of bread and jam?” de- 
manded Merritt, as the stout youth appeared. 

“Eagles don't eat bread and jam,” rejoined 
Tubby, defending his position. “Have some?” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


5i 

“Having had breakfast not more than an hour 
ago, Pm not hungry yet, thank you,” politely re- 
joined the corporal; “besides, Pm afraid Pd get 
fat.” 

Dodging the stout youth’s blow, the corporal 
went on: 

“Heard the news?” 

“No — what news?” eagerly demanded the 
other, finishing his light repast. 

“Why, the Dolphin — you know, that fishing 
boat — picked up Sam’s hydroplane at sea and 
towed it in. It’s in pretty good shape, I hear, 
although the engine is out of commission and it 
was half full of water.” 

“He’s a lucky fellow to get it back.” 

“I should say so,” replied Merritt; “but it will 
cost him a whole lot to reclaim it. The captain 
of the Dolphin says he wants fifty dollars for it 
as salvage.” 

“Gee! Do you think Sam’s, father will give 
him that much?” said Tubby, with round eyes. 

“I don’t know. He can afford it all right. He’s 
made a lot of money out of that boat-building 


52 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

shop, my father says; but he’s so stingy that I 
doubt very much if he will give Sam such a sum.” 

“Why, here’s Sam coming down the street 
now,” exclaimed the good-natured Tubby. “I 
wonder if he’s heard about it. Hullo, Sam ! Get 
all the water out of your system ?” 

“I’m all right this morning, if that is what you 
mean,” rejoined the other, with dignity. 

“Heard the news about your boat?” asked 
Merritt suddenly. 

“No; what about her? Is she safe? Who 
picked her up?” 

“Wait a minute. One question at a time,” 
laughed Merritt. “She’s safe, all right. The 
Dolphin picked her up at sea. But it will cost 
you fifty dollars to get her.” 

“Fifty dollars !” gasped Sam, turning pale. 

“That’s what the skipper of the Dolphin says. 
He had a lot of trouble getting a line fast to her, 
he says, and he means to have the money or keep 
the boat.” 

“Oh, well, I’ll get it from my father easily 
enough,” said Sam confidently, preparing to 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


53 

swagger off down the street. “I’ve got to get 
my boat back and beat Rob’s Flying Fish , and 
that hydroplane can do it.” 

“Can you match that?” exclaimed Merritt to 
the fat youth, as Sam strolled away. “Here he 
was saved from drowning by the Flying Fish 
only yesterday, and all he can think of this morn- 
ing is to promise to beat her. What makes him 
so mean, I wonder ?” 

“Just born that way, I guess,” rejoined the 
stout youth ; “and as for the Flying Fish saving 
him, if it hadn’t been for a certain Corporal 
Crawford, he ” 

“Here, stow that,” protested Merritt, coloring 
up. “I heard enough of that yesterday after- 
noon.” 

As the boys had surmised, Sam’s father was 
not at all pleased when he learned that his son 
wanted fifty dollars. In fact, he refused point 
blank to let him have it at all. 

“That boat of yours has cost enough already, 
and I’m not going to spend any more on it,” he 
said angrily, as he turned to his work. 


54 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


“But I can't get the hydroplane back if I don't 
pay it," urged Sam. “I've seen the captain of the 
Dolphin , and he refuses absolutely to let me have 
her unless I pay him for his trouble in towing her 
in." 

“I can't help that," snapped the elder Redding. 
“What have I got to do with your boat? Look 
here!" he exclaimed, turning angrily and pro- 
ducing a small memorandum book from his 
pocket and rapidly turning the leaves. “Do you 
know how much I've given you in the last two 
months ?" 

“N-n-no," stammered Sam, looking very much 
embarrassed, and shuffling about from one foot 
to the other. 

“Then I'll tell you, young man; it's exactly — 

let me see Ten, twenty, five, three, fifteen 

and eight. That's just sixty-one dollars. Do you 
think that money grows on gooseberry bushes? 
Then there'll be your college expenses to pay. 
No, I can't let you have a cent." 

“That means that I will lose my boat and the 


THE EAGLE PATROL 55 

chance of winning the race at the regatta!” 
urged Sam gloomily. 

‘‘Well, you should have had more sense than 
to take that fool hydroplane out into a rough 
sea. I told you she wouldn’t stand it. There, 
go on about your own affairs. I’m far too busy 
to loaf about, arguing with you.” 

And with this the hard-featured old boat 
builder — who had made his money literally by 
the sweat of his brow — turned once more to his 
task of figuring out the blue prints of a racing 
sloop. 

Sam saw that it was no use to argue further 
with his father, and left the shop with no very 
pleasant expression on his countenance. 

‘Til have to see if I can’t borrow it some- 
where,” he mused. “If only I was on better 
terms with Rob Blake, I could get it from him, 
I guess. His father is a banker and he must 
have plenty. I wonder — I wonder if Mr. Blake 
himself wouldn’t lend it to me. I could give him 
a note for it, and in three months’ time I’d be 
sure to be able to take it up.” 


56 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


With this end in view, the lad started for the 
Hampton Bank. It required some courage for a 
youth of his disposition to make up his mind to 
beard the lion in his den — or, in other words, to 
approach Mr. Blake in his office. For Sam, while 
bold enough when his two hulking cronies were 
about, had no real backbone of his own. 

After making two or three turns in front of 
the bank, he finally screwed his courage to the 
sticking point, and timidly asked an attendant if 
he could see the banker. 

“I think so. I’ll see,” was the reply. 

In a few seconds the man reappeared, and said 
that Mr. Blake could spare a few minutes. Hat 
in hand, Sam entered the ground-glass door 
which bore on it in imposing gilt letters the word 
“President.” 

The interview was brief, and to Sam most un- 
satisfactory. The banker pointed out to him that 
he was a minor, and as such that his note would 
be no good ; and also that, without the permission 
of his father, he would not think of lending the 
youth such a sum. Much crestfallen, Sam shuf- 


the eagle patrol 


57 

fled his way out toward the main door of the 
bank, when suddenly a voice he recognized caused 
him to look up. 

“A hundred and twenty-five dollars. That's 
right, all shipshape and above board !" 

It was the old captain of Topsail Island, count- 
ing over in his gnarled paw one hundred and 
twenty-five dollars in crisp bills which he had 
just received from the paying teller. 

“You must be going to be married, captain," 
Sam heard the teller remark jocularly. 

“Not yet a while," the captain laughed back. 
“That ther motor uv mine that I left ter be fixed 
up is goin' ter cost me fifty dollars, and the other 
seventy-five I'm calculating ter keep on hand in 
my safe fer a while. I'm kind uv figgerin' on 
gettin' a new dinghy — my old one is just plum 
full uv holes. I rowed over frum the island 
this mornin', and I declar’ ter goodness, once or 
twict I thought I'd swamp." 

Sam slipped out of the bank without speaking 
to the captain, whom, indeed, since the episode of 


58 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

the melon patch, he had no great desire to en- 
counter. 

As he made his way toward his home in no 
very amiable mood, he was hailed from the oppo- 
site side of the street by Jack Curtiss and Bill 
Bender. 

“Any news of the boat?” demanded Jack, as 
he and Bill crossed over and slapped their crony 
on the back with great assumed heartiness. 

“Yes, and mighty bad news, too, in one way. 
She’s safe enough. The Dolphin — that fishing 
boat— found her and towed her in. But — here’s 
the tough part of it — it’s going to cost fifty dol- 
lars for salvage to get her from the Dolphin’s 
captain, the old shark !” 

“Phew !” whistled Jack Curtiss. “Pretty steep. 
But I suppose your old man will fork over, eh ?” 

“That’s just it,” grumbled Sam; “he won’t 
come across with a cent. I suppose, if I don’t 
pay for the hydroplane’s recovery pretty soon, 
she will be sold at auction.” 

“That’s the usual process,” observed Bill. 

“Isn’t there any way you can raise the wind ?” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


59 

“No, I’ve tried every one I can think of. I 
don’t suppose either of you fellows could ” 

“Nothing doing here,” hastily cried Jack, not 
giving the other time to finish. 

“I’m cleaned out, too,” Bill also hurriedly as- 
sured the unfortunate Sam. 

“It looks like everybody but us has coin,” com- 
plained that worthy bitterly. “While I was in 
the bank trying to get old man Blake to take up 
a note of mine for the sum I need, who should 
I see in there but that old fossil of a captain 
from Topsail Island.” 

“Who grows such fine, juicy melons and keeps 
such a nice, amiable pet dog,” laughed Jack, 
roaring at the recollection of the piratical expe- 
dition of which the island dweller had told the 
boys. 

“Ha, ha, ha!” shouted Bill in chorus. “We’ll 
have to give him another visit soon.” 

“But what about the old land crab, Sam ?” de- 
manded Jack the next minute. “What was he 
doing in the bank?” 

“Why, drawing one hundred and twenty-five 


6o 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


dollars. Just think of it, and we always figured 
it out that he was poor.” 

“A hundred and twenty-five dollars ! I wonder 
what he’s going to do with it?” wondered Jack, 
with whom money and its spending was always 
an absorbing topic. 

“Why, I overheard that, too, as I passed by,” 
rejoined Sam. “He’s going to spend some of it 
for the repairing of his motor, which broke down 
yesterday, and the rest he’s going to keep by him.” 

“Keep it on the island, you mean?” demanded 
Jack, becoming suddenly much interested. 

“That’s what he said — keep it in his safe,” re- 
plied Sam. “But what good does that do us?” 

“A whole lot, maybe,” was the enigmatic re- 
ply. “See here, Sam, you can win that race if 
you get your hydroplane ?” 

“I’m sure of it.” 

“You are going to bet on yourself, of course.” 

“Sure. I’ve got to raise some money some- 
how.” 

“Well, I’ve thought of a way you can borrow 
the money to get your boat back, and when you 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


61 


win the race you can return it. Come on, let's 
go to Bill’s den, and we’ll have a smoke and talk 
it over.” 


62 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER V. 

THE BUU.Y SPRINGS A SURPRISE. 

That afternoon, in reply to a notice sent round 
by a runner, the lads of the Eagle Patrol as- 
sembled at their armory, and on Leader Rob’s or- 
ders “fell in” to hear the official announcement 
of the coming camping trip. As a matter of fact, 
they had discussed little else for several days, but 
the first “regimental” notification, as it were, 
was to be made now. 

The first duty to be performed was the calling 
of the roll after “assembly” had been sounded — 
somewhat quaveringly — by little Andy Bowles, 
the company bugler. 

Beside Rob Merritt, Tubby and Andy, there 
were Hiram Nelson, a tall, lanky youth, whose 
hands were stained with much fussing with 
chemicals, for he was a wireless experimenter; 
Ernest Thompson, a big-eyed, serious-looking lad, 


THE EAGLE PATROL 63 

whose specialty in the little regiment was that of 
bicycle scout, as the spoked wheel on his arm de- 
noted; Simon Jeffords, a second-class scout, but 
who, under Rob’s tutelage, was becoming the ex- 
pert “wig-wagger” of the organization; Paul 
Perkins, another second-class boy, but a hard 
worker and a devotee of aeronautics; Martin 
Green, one of the smallest of the Eagle Patrol, a 
tenderfoot; Walter Lonsdale, also a recruit, and 
Joe Digby, who, as the last to join the Patrol, 
was the tenderest of the tenderfeet. 

Rob’s announcement of the programme for the 
eight days they were to spend on the island was 
greeted with cheers. The news that turns were 
to be taken by two scouts daily at washing dishes 
and cooking did not awaken quite so much en- 
thusiasm. Everybody cheered up again, how- 
ever, when Rob announced that the Flying Fish 
would be at the disposal of the boys of the patrol. 

Corporal Merritt took Rob’s place as orator 
then, and announced that each boy would be as- 
sessed one dollar for the expenses of the camp, 
the remainder of the money necessary for the 


64 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

providing of tents and the provisioning of the 
camp having been donated by Rob’s father, Mr. 
Wingate, of the yacht club, and the other repre- 
sentative citizens of Hampton who composed the 
local scout council. 

Further excitement was caused by the an- 
nouncement that following the camp the local 
committee would pass upon the applications for 
promotions and honors for the lads of the Patrol, 
and that it was likely, that another patrol would be 
formed in the village, as several boys had ex- 
pressed themselves as anxious to form one. The 
* gentlemen having charge of the local scout move- 
ment, however, had decided that it would be wiser 
to wait and see the result of one patrol’s training 
before forming a second one. 

“I’m going to try for an aviator’s badge,” an- 
nounced Paul Perkins, as Rob declared the offi- 
cial business at an end. 

“Say, Rob, what’s the matter with our fixing 
up a wireless in the camp? Pm pretty sure I 
can make one that will catch anything in a hun- 
dred-mile radius.” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 65 

“That’s a good idea,” assented Rob; “if you 
can do it we can get a lot of good out of it, I 
don’t doubt.” 

“What’s the good of wireless when we’ve got 
wig-wagging and the semaphore code,” spoke 
up Simon Jeffords, who was inclined to doubt the 
use of any other form of telegraphy but that in 
which he had perfected himself. 

As for Martin Green, Walter Lonsdale and 
Joe Digby, they contented themselves with hop- 
ing that they might receive their badges as sec- 
ond-class scouts when the camp was over. 

“I can take the whole tests except cooking the 
meat and potatoes in the ‘Billy,’ ” bemoaned 
young Green, a small chap of about thirteen. 
“Somehow, they always seem to burn, or else 
they don’t cook at all.” 

“Well, cheer up, Martin,” laughed Rob. 
“You’ll learn to do it in camp. We’ll make you 
cook for the whole time we’re out there, if you 
like — that will give you plenty of practice.” 

“No, thank you,” chimed in Andy Bowles. 
“I’ve seen some of Mart’s cooking, and I think 


66 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


the farther you keep him from the cook fire, the 
better for the general health of the Eagle Pa- 
trol” 

At this moment there came a rap on the door. 

“Come in!” shouted Rob. 

In reply to this invitation, the door opened and 
a lad of about fifteen entered. His face was 
flushed and he bore in his hand a long sheet of 
green paper. 

“Hello, Frank Farnham,” exclaimed Rob, 

, glancing at the boy’s flushed, excited face. 
“What’s troubling you?” 

“Oh, hello, Rob. Excuse me for butting in on 
your ceremonies, but I was told Paul Perkins was 
here.” 

“Sure he is, Frank,” exclaimed Paul, coming 
forward. “What’s the matter? It’s much too 
warm to be flying around the way you seem to 
have been. Come in under this fan.” 

He indicated an electrically driven ventilator 
that was whirring in a corner of the room. 

“Quit your fooling, Paul,” remonstrated 
Frank, “and read this circular. Here.” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 67 

He thrust the green “dodger” he carried into 
the other's hand. 

“What do you think of that, eh?” demanded 
Frank, as Paul skimmed it with delighted eyes. 

The circular contained the announcement of a 
lecture on aeronautics by a well-known author- 
ity on the subject who had once been a resident of 
Hampton. To stimulate interest in the subject, 
the paper stated that a first prize of fifty dollars, a 
second prize of twenty-five, and a third prize of 
ten dollars would be given to the three lads of the 
town making and flying the most successful 
models of aeroplanes in a public competition. To 
win the first prize it would be necessary for the 
model to fly more than two hundred feet, and not 
lower, except at the start and end of the flight, 
than fifty feet above the ground. The second 
prize was for the next best flight, and the third 
for the model approaching the nearest to the win- 
ner of the second money. 

“Now, Paul, you are an aeronautic fiend,” went 
on Frank. “So am I, and Hiram has the fever 
in a mild way. What's the matter with you two 


68 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


fellows forming a team to represent the Boy 
Scouts, and I’ll get up a team of village boys, to 
compete for the prizes.” 

“That’s a good idea,” assented Hiram Nelson. 
“Fve got a model almost completed. It only 
needs the rubber bands and a little testing and it 
will be O. K., or at least I hope so. How about 
you, Paul?” 

“Oh, Fve got two models that I have got good 
results from,” replied the boy addressed. “One 
is a biplane. She’s not so speedy, but very steady ; 
and then I have a model of a Bleriot. I’m willing 
to enter either of them or both.” 

“And Fve got a model of an Antoinette, and 
one of a design of my own. I don’t know just 
how well it will work,” concluded Frank mod- 
estly, “but I have great hopes of carrying off 
that prize.” 

“Let’s see who else there is,” pondered Hiram. 

“There’s Tom Maloney. He’ll go in, I know ; 
and Ed Rivers and two or three others, and then, 
by the way, I almost forgot it, I met Sam Red- 
ding, Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender, reading a 


THE EAGLE PATROL 69 

notice of the competition, just before I came up. 
Of course, as there is a chance of winning fifty 
dollars, Jack is going to enter one, and Bill Bend- 
er said he would put one in, too.” 

“What do they know about aeroplanes?” de- 
manded Paul. 

“Not a whole lot, I guess; but Jack said he was 
going to get a book that tells how to make one, 
and Bill said he’d do the same.” 

“How about Sam ?” inquired Rob. 

“Oh, I guess he’s got troubles enough with 
his hydroplane,” responded Rob, whose father 
had told him at dinner that day of Sam’s vain 
visit to the bank. 

'“It would be just like those fellows to put up 
something crooked on us,” remarked Paul, who 
had had much the same experiences with the 
bully and his chums as his schoolmates generally. 

“Oh, there’ll be no chance of that,” Frank as- 
sured him. “A local committee of business men 
is to be appointed to see fair play, and I don’t 
fancy that even Jack or Bill will be slick enough 
to get away with any crooked work.” 


70 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


“How long have we got to get ready ?” asked 
Hiranr suddenly. 

“Just a week.” 

“Wow! that isn't much time.” 

“No; my father told me that Professor Charl- 
ton, whom he knows, would have given a longer 
time for preparation but that he has to attend a 
flying meet in Europe, and only decided to lec- 
ture at his native town at the last moment. 
Lucky thing that most of us have got our models 
almost ready.” 

“Yes, especially as this notice says,” added 
Paul, who had been reading it, “that all models 
must be the sole work of the contestants.” 

“If it wasn't for that it would be easy,” re- 
marked Hiram. “You can buy dandy models in 
New York. Pve seen them advertised in the 
papers.” 

“Well, come on over now and put your name 
down as a contestant. The blanks are in the 
office of the Hampton News'* urged Frank. 

“I guess we’re all through up here, Rob, aren’t 
we?” asked Hiram. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


7 1 

“Yes,” rejoined the young leader; “but you 
study up on your woodcraft, Hiram, and devote 
more time to your signalling. You are such a 
bug on wireless that you forget the rest of the 
stuff.” 

“All right, Rob,” promised Hiram contritely. 
“By the time we go camping I’ll know a cat track 
from a squirrel's, or never put a detector on my 
head again.” 

Piloted by Frank, the two young scouts made 
their way to the office of the local paper, which 
had already placed a large bulletin announcing 
the aeroplane model competition in its window. 
Quite a crowd was gathered, reading the details, 
as the three boys entered. 

They applied for their application blanks and 
walked over to a desk to fill them out. As they 
were hard at work at this, Jack Curtiss and his 
two chums entered the office. 

“You going into this, too?” asked the proprie- 
tor of the paper, Ephraim Parkhurst, as Jack 
loudly demanded two blanks. 

“Sure,” responded Jack confidently, “and we 


72 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

are going to win it, too. Hullo,” he exclaimed, 
as his eyes fell on the younger lads, “those kids 
are after the prize, too. Why, what would they 
do with fifty dollars if they had it? However, 
there’s not much chance of your winning any- 
thing,” he added, coming up close to the boys, 
with a sneer on his face. “I think that I’ve got it 
cinched.” 

“I didn’t know that you knew anything about 
aeroplanes,” responded Paul quietly. “Have you 
got a model built yet ?” 

“I know about a whole lot of things I don’t go 
blabbing round to everybody about,” responded 
the elder lad, with a sneer, “and as for having 
a model built, I’m going to get right to work on 
one at once. It’ll be a model of a Bleriot mono- 
plane, and a large one, too. I notice that there is 
nothing said in the rules about the size of the 
machines.” 

Soon after this the three chums left the news- 
paper office together. 

“Say,” remarked Paul, in a rather worried 
tone, “I don’t believe that there is anything said 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


73 

about the size of the models. Bill may build a 
great big one and beat us all out.” 

“I suppose that the big machines would be 
handicapped according to their power and speed,” 
rejoined Frank. “However, don’t you worry 
about that. I don’t believe that Jack Curtiss 
knows enough about the subject to build an aero- 
plane in a week, and anyhow, I think it’s all 
empty bluff on his part.” 

“I hope so,” replied Paul, as they reached his 
front gate. “Will you be over to-night, Hiram, 
to talk things over? Bring your models with 
you, too, will you ?” 

“Sure,” replied Hiram; “but I’ve got to do a 
few things at home after supper. I’ll be over 
about eight o’clock or half-past.” 

“All right. I’ll be ready for you,” responded 
Paul, as the lads said good-by. 

A few minutes later Jack Curtiss and his 
chums emerged from the newspaper office, the 
former and Bill Bender having made out their 
applications. Sam seemed more dejected than 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


74 

ever, but there was a grin of satisfaction on Jack 
Curtiss's face. 

“Well, we sent the note, all right," he laughed 
under his breath, to his two chums. “He'll have 
got it by this time, and will be in town by dark. 
You know your part of the programme, Sam. 
Don't fail to carry it out, or I'll see that you get 
into trouble." 

“There's no need to worry about me, Jack," re- 
joined Sam, with an angry flush. “I'll get the 
boat as soon as he lands, and keep it out of sight 
till you've done the trick." 

“Nothing like killing two birds with one 
stone," grinned Bill Bender. “My! what a time 
there'll be in the morning, when they find out 
that there's been a regular double cross." 

“Hush! Here come those three kids now," 
warned Sam, as Rob, Merritt and Tubby came 
down the street. After what had passed they 
did not feel called upon to give the bully and his 
companions more than a cold nod. 

“Well, be as stuck up as you like to this after- 
noon!" sneered Jack, after they had gone by, tak- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


75 

in g good care, however, that his voice would not 
carry. “I guess the laugh will be on you and 
your old friend of the island to-morrow. ,, 


76 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER VI. 

AN ISLAND MYSTERY. 

“Hullo, Hiram ; where are you bound for ?” 

It was Rob who spoke, as Hiram hastened by 
his house in the early darkness. 

“Oh, hullo, Rob/’ responded the other. “I 
was wondering who that was hanging over the 
gate. Why, Pm going to Paul’s house. I’m go- 
ing to talk over that aeroplane model contest with 
him. I think that we stand a chance to win if 
Jack Curtiss doesn’t make good his boast.’’ 

“What was that?” inquired Rob. 

“Oh, he says that he is going to build an aero- 
plane that will beat us all.” 

“And have it ready in a week?” was Rob’s as- 
tonished query. 

“That’s what he says,” responded Hiram. “It 
all looks kind of suspicious to me. Fifty dollars 
is a large enough sum to tempt Jack to do almost 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


77 

anything. Well, so long. Pve got to hurry 
along. Pm late now.” 

And the lad hastened away to keep ms appoint- 
ment. 

Rob was about to go into the house and get a 
book, when his attention was arrested by a figure 
coming up the street at a smart pace whose out- 
lines somehow seemed familiar to him. The next 
minute his guess was confirmed, when a hearty 
voice hailed him : 

“Waal, here I am, lad — all shipshape and in 
first-class trim. Now, what is it? What do yer 
want? Yer didn’t explain in the note, but old 
Captain Job Hudgins’ll always stand by a ship- 
mate in distress.” 

“Why, whatever do you mean, captain?” ex- 
claimed Rob, amazed, and thinking that the cap- 
tain must have taken leave of his wits. “Who 
do you mean is in distress?” 

“Mean?” echoed the captain, in his turn, it 
seemed, surprised. “Why, that note yer sent me. 
Here it is — all written on one uv them new- 
fangled machines.” 


78 THE BOY SCOUTS OE 

Rob took the crumpled paper the old seaman 
drew out of his coat and scanned it hastily by the 
light of the street lamp. The following note met 
his puzzled gaze. 

“Dkar Captain : Please come over and see me 
at once. Something serious has happened at the 
bank. I need your aid and advice. 

“Yours, 

“Rob Btake;.” 

“Hum! The signature is typewritten, too,” 
mused Rob. “What kind of a joke is this? I 
don’t know, but I’ll bet anything that Jack Cur- 
tiss is at the bottom of it.” 

“Well,” demanded the captain, “what is it, a 
bit of gammon ? I’ll keel-haul the man as did it 
if I can find him.” 

“It looks like a hoax of some sort,” admitted 
Rob, sorely puzzled; “but I can’t for the life of 
me see the object of it. Come into the house a 
minute, captain, and we’ll try to figure it out.” 

Seated beneath the lamp in the library of his 
home, Rob scrutinized the letter closely, but could 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


79 

find absolutely no indication about it to betray 
who could have typewritten it. 

“How did you come to receive it?” he asked 
suddenly. 

“Why, old Hank Handcraft come out in that 
crazy launch uv his and guv it ter me,” rejoined 
the captain. “I ought ter hev told yer that in 
the first place, but I was all took aback and can- 
vas a-shiver when yer tole me yer never wrote 
it.” 

“Hank Handcraft,” repeated Rob. “He’s that 
queer old fellow that lives in a hut away down 
the beach?” 

“Yes, and a bad character, too,” replied the 
captain. “He used ter be a smuggler, and done 
a term in jail fer it.” 

“Well, it’s pretty certain that he didn't write 
this,” said Rob. “He couldn’t get hold of a type- 
writer, even if he could use one. What did he 
tell you about it? Did he say who gave it to 
him?” 

“No, he just handed it ter me, and says: ‘A 
young party in Hampton says ter give yer this 


8o 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

and hurry. I was just gettin’ my supper when 
I heard his hail of ‘Island, ahoy!’ 1 hurried out, 
and there he was in that old teakettle uv his, at 
the end uv my wharf.” 

“And he left before you read the note?” 

“I should say. He hurried right off ag’in.” 

“Well, I don’t see any way to get at the bot- 
tom of this mystery but to go and see old Hank 
himself,” mused Rob, after a period of thought. 
“What do you think, captain?” 

“That’s the tack ter go about on, youngster,” 
agreed the man of Topsail Island; “but if yer 
are goin’ down ter his place at this hour uv night, 
we’d better take somebody else along. He’s a 
bad character, and I’m only a feeble old man and 
yer are a lad.” 

“I’ll go round by Merritt Crawford’s house,” 
proposed Rob; “then we’ll pick up Tubby Hop- 
kins. I guess we can handle any trouble that 
Hank wants to make, with that force on hand.” 

“I guess so,” agreed the old man. “I must say 
I’d like ter get ter the bottom uv this here mys- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 81 

tery. ‘All fair and above board* is my motto. I 
don’t like these secret craft.” 

The two young scouts were both at home, and 
after brief explanations the four started off at a 
lively pace for Hank Handcraft’s hut, which was 
situated about two miles along the beach. As 
they hastened along, Rob explained to the others 
in more detail the nature of their mission, but 
though they were as much mystified by the sud- 
den summons of Captain Hudgins as Rob and 
the captain himself, they could hit upon no plausi- 
ble explanation for it. 

It was a little over half an hour before they 
reached the dilapidated hut where old Hand- 
craft, a beach-comber, made his dwelling place. 
A short distance off the shore they could see by 
the moon, which had now risen, that his crazy 
old motor boat lay at anchor. This was a sign 
that Hank was at home. Lest it be wondered 
that such a character could have owned a motor 
boat, it may be explained here that the engine of 
Hank’s old oyster skiff had been given him by a 
summer resident who despaired of making it 


82 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


work. Hank, however, who was quite handy 
with tools, had fixed it up and managed to make 
it drive his patched old craft at quite a fair speed 
— sometimes. When it broke down, as it fre- 
quently did, Hank, who was a philosopher in his 
way, simply got out his oars and rowed his heavy 
craft. 

As an additional indication that the hut was 
occupied, light shone through several of its 
numerous chinks and crannies, and a knock at 
the door brought forth a low growl of : “Who's 
there?" 

“We want to see you," said Rob. 

“This is no time of night to call on a gentle- 
man; come to-morrow and leave your cards," 
rumbled the gruff voice from inside the hut. 

“This is serious business," urged Rob. “Come 
on — open that door, Hank. This is Rob Blake, 
the banker's son." 

“Oh, it is, is it?" grumbled the voice, as the 
clank of the door-chains being taken off was 
heard from within. “Well, I ain't had much 


THE EAGLE PATROL 83 

business deals with your father lately, my private 
fortune being somewhat shrunk.” 

With a muffled chuckle from the speaker, the 
door slowly opened, and Hank, a ragged figure, 
with an immense matted beard, long tangled hair 
and dim blue eyes, that blinked like a rat's, stood 
revealed. 

“Come in, come in, gentlemen,” he bowed, with 
mock politeness. “I'm glad to see such a numer- 
ous and representative party. Now, what kin I 
do you for?” 

He chuckled once more at his little jest, and 
the boys involuntarily shrank from him. 

There was nothing to do, however, but enter 
the hut, and Hank accommodated his guests with 
a cracker box apiece as chairs. On a table, 
roughly built out of similar boxes, a battered old 
stable lamp smoked and flared. A more miser- 
able human habitation could not be imagined. 

“Hank,” began the captain, “speak me fair and 
above board, mate — who give yer that letter ter 
bring ter me ter-night ?” 


84 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

“What letter?” blankly responded Hank, a 
look of vacancy in his shifty eyes. 

“Oh, yer know well enough; that letter yer 
give me at supper time.” 

“Captain, I’ll give you my davy I don’t know 
what you’re talking about,” returned the beach- 
comber. 

“What!” roared the captain, rising to his feet 
and advancing threateningly. “Yer mean ter 
tell me, yer rapscallion, that yer don’t recall land- 
in’ at Topsail Island earlier ter-night and givin’ 
me a note which says ter come urgent and imme- 
diate ter see young Rob Blake here ?” 

“Why, captain,” calmly returned Hank, with 
an indulgent grin, “I really think you must be 
gettin’ childish in your old age. You must be 
seeing things. I hope you ain’t drinking.” 

“You — you scoundrel, you!” roared the old 
captain, almost beside himself with rage, and 
dancing with clenched fists toward Hank. 

The beach-comber’s filthy hand slipped into his 
rags in a minute, and the next instant he was 
squatting back on his haunches in the corner of 


THE EAGLE PATROL 85 

the hut, like a wildcat about to spring. In his 
hand there glistened, in the yellow rays of the 
lamp, a blued-steel revolver. 

“Don’t get angry, captain. It’s bad for the 
digestion,” grinned the castaway. “Now,” he 
went on, “I’m going to tell you flat that if you 
say I came to your island to-night, you’re dream- 
ing. It must have been some one else.” 

“Come on, boys,” directed the captain, with an 
angry shrug. “There’s no use wastin’ time on 
the critter. I’m inclined ter think now that 
there’s somethin’ more than ordinary in the 
wind,” he added, as they left the hut, with the 
half-idiotic chuckles of its occupant ringing in 
their ears. 


86 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER VII. 

SOME STRANGE DOINGS. 

It was not far from midnight when the boys, 
sorely perplexed, once more reached Hampton. 
The main street had been deserted long since, and 
every one in the village had returned to rest. 

The boys left the captain by the water-front, 
while they headed up the Main Street for their 
respective homes. Rob remained up, pondering 
over the events of the evening for some time, 
without arriving at any solution of them. He 
was just about to extinguish his light when he 
was startled by a loud : 

“His-s-st !” 

The noise came from directly below his open 
window, which faced onto the garden. 

He put out his head, and saw a dark figure 
standing in the yard. 

“Who is it?” he demanded. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


87 

“It's me, the captain, Rob,” rejoined the well- 
known voice. “I wouldn't have bothered yer but 
that I saw a light in yer window.” 

“What's the trouble, captain?” asked the boy, 
noting a troubled inflection in the old man's voice. 

“My boat's gone !” was the startling reply. 

“Gone ! Are you sure ?” 

“No doubt about it. I left her tied ter the L 
wharf when I come up from the island, and now 
there ain't hide nor hair uv her there.” 

“I'll bet anything that that fellow Curtiss is at 
the bottom of all this,” cried Rob. “I remember 
now I heard some time ago that he was thick with 
that Hank Handcraft.” 

“I don't know what ter do about it at this time 
uv ther night,” went on the distressed captain, 
“an' I can't go round waking folks up ter get an- 
other boat.” 

“Of course not,” agreed Rob. “There's only 
one thing for you to do, captain, and that is to 
put up here to-night, and in the morning we'll 
see what we can do.” 

“That's mighty fair, square, and above board 


88 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


uv yer, lad,” said the captain gratefully. “Bunk 
me anywhere. I’m an old sailor, and can always 
find the softest plank in the deck.” 

“You won’t have to do that,” said Rob, who 
had slipped downstairs by this time and opened 
the door ; “we’ve got a spare room you can bunk 
in to-night. I’ll explain it all to father in the 

morning. Perhaps he can help us out.” 

****** 

“Gee whizz ! almost twelve o’clock,” exclaimed 
Hiram Nelson, looking up at the clock from the 
dining-room table in Paul Perkins’s house. The 
chamber was strewn with text-books on model 
aeroplane construction and littered with figures 
and plans of the boys’ own devising. “How time 
flies when you’re on a subject that interests you.” 

“Yes, it’s a good thing it’s vacation time,” 
agreed Paul. “We wouldn’t be in much shape to 
work at our books to-morrow, eh?” 

“I should say not!” rejoined Hiram with con- 
viction. “Well, so long, Paul. I guess we’ve got 
it all figured out now, and all that is left to do 
is to go ahead.” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


89 

‘‘That’s the idea,” responded Paul. “We’ll get 
the prize for the glory of the Eagle Patrol, or — 


“Bust!” Hiram finished for him. 

Hiram’s way home lay past the bank, and as 
he walked down the moonlit street he thought for 
a minute that he perceived a light in the windows 
of the armory. 

Almost as he fancied he glimpsed it, however, 
it vanished, and the lad was convinced that he 
must have been mistaken, or else seen a reflection 
of the moonlight on the windows. 

“Queer, though,” he mused. “I could almost 
have sworn it was a light.” 

Another curious thing presently attracted his 
attention. As he neared the bank a dark figure 
seemed to vanish into the black shadows round 
the corner. Something familiar about it struck 
Hiram, and the next moment he realized why. 

“If that wasn’t Bill Bender, I’m a Dutchman,” 
he muttered, his heart beating a little faster. 
“But what can he be doing round here at this 
time of night?” 


90 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


As he put the question to himself, Bill Bender, 
walking rapidly, as if he had come from some 
distance, and had not dodged round the corner a 
moment before, suddenly appeared from round 
the angle of the bank building. 

“Good evening, Bill, ,, said Hiram, wondering 
if his eyes were not playing him some queer 
tricks; “wasn’t that you just went round the 
corner ?” 

“Who, me?” blustered Bill. “You need to 
visit an oculist, young man. IVe just come from 
a visit to my aunt’s. It was her birthday, and 
we had a bully time. Sat up a little too late, 
though. Good night.” 

And with a great assumption of easiness, the 
crony of Jack Curtiss walked rapidly off up the 
street. 

“I guess he’s right,” mused Hiram, as he hur- 
ried on home. “But if that wasn’t Bill Bender 
who walked round that corner it was his ghost, 
and all the ghosts I ever read about don’t wear 
squeaky boots.” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


9i 

If Hiram had remained he would have had 
further cause to be suspicious and speculative. 

The lad's footsteps had hardly died out down 
the street before Bill Bender cautiously retraced 
his way, and, going round to the side street, upon 
which the steps leading to the armory opened, 
gave a cautious whistle. In reply a sack was 
lowered from a window to him by some person 
invisible above. 

Although there was some little light on the 
Main Street by reason of the moon and the few 
scattering lamps along the thoroughfare, the spot 
in which Bill now stood was as black as the 
proverbial pocket. 

“Is the coast all clear?" came down a voice 
from the window above. 

“Yes; but if I hadn't spotted young Hiram 
Nelson coming down the street and warned you 
to put out that light, it wouldn't have been," re- 
sponded Bill in the same cautious tone. 

“Well, we're safe enough now," came back the 
voice above, which any of his acquaintances 
would have recognized as Jack Curtiss's. “I've 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


92 

got the rest of them in this other sack. Here, 
take this one when I drop it.” 

Bill made a bungling effort to catch the heavy 
receptacle that fell following Jack's warning, but 
in the darkness he failed, and it crashed down 
with quite a clatter. 

“Look out !” warned Jack anxiously, “some one 
might hear that.” 

“Not in this peaceful community. You seem 
to forget that eleven o'clock is the very latest 
bedtime in Hampton.” 

After a brief interval Jack Curtiss himself 
slipped out of the side door of the armory and 
joined his friend on the dark sidewalk. 

“Well, what's the next move on the pro- 
gramme?” asked Bill. 

“We'll sneak down Bailey's Lane — there are no 
lights there — to Hank's place. Sam will be wait- 
ing off there with the boat,” rejoined Jack. 

“Yes, if he hasn't lost his nerve,” was Bill's 
rejoinder as they shouldered their sacks and 
slipped off into the deep blackness shrouding the 
side streets. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


93 

“Well, if he has lost it, he'll come near losing 
his head, too,” grated out Jack, “but don't you 
fear, he wants that fifty too badly to go back on 
us.” 

Silently as two cats the cronies made their way 
down the tree-bordered thoroughfare known as 
Bailey's Lane and after a few minutes gained the 
beach. 

“Say, that’s an awful hike down to Hank's 
gilded palace,” grumbled Bill, “why didn't you 
have Sam wait for us off here?” 

“Yes, and have old man Hudgins discover 
him when he finds his boat is gone,” sneered 
Jack, “you'd have made a fine botch of this if it 
hadn't been for me.” 

The two exchanged no further words on the 
weary tramp along the soft beach. They plodded 
along steadily with the silence only broken by a 
muttered remark emanating from Bill Bender 
from time to time. 

“Thank heaven, there's the place at last,” ex- 
claimed Bill, with a sigh of relief, as they came 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


94 

in sight of the miserable hut, "I began to think 
that Hank must have moved. ,, 

Jack gave a peculiar whistle and the next in- 
stant the same light the boys had seen earlier in 
the evening shone through the chinks of the 
hovel. 

<r Well, he's awake, at any rate," remarked Jack 
with a grin, "now to find out where the boat is." 

As the wretched figure of the beach-comber 
appeared Jack hailed him roughly. 

"Where's that boat, Hank?" 

"Been cruising off and on here since eleven 
o’clock," rejoined the other sullenly, "ah! there 
she is now off to the sou' west." 

He pointed and the boys saw a red light flash 
twice seaward as if some one had passed their 
hands across it. 

"All right, give him the answer," ordered Jack. 
"We've got to hurry if we’re to be back before 
the captain and those brats of boys get after our 
trail.” 

Hank at Jack's order dived into the hut and 
now reappeared with the smoky lantern. He 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


95 

waved it four times from side to side like a brake- 
man and in a short time a steady “put-put !” told 
the watchers that a motor boat was approaching. 

“Now for your dinghy, Hank/' urged Jack, 
“hurry up. You move like a man a hundred and 
ninety years old, with the rheumatism/’ 

“Well, come on, then,” retorted Hank, “here’s 
the boat,” pointing to a cobbled dinghy lying 
hauled up above the water line, “give me a hand 
and we’ll shove off.” 

The united strength of the three soon had the 
boat in the water and with Hank at the oars they 
moved steadily toward the chugging motor boat. 

“Well, Sam, you’re on the job, I see,” re- 
marked Jack as the two craft ranged alongside 
and Sam cut off the engine. 

“Oh, I f m on the job all right,” rejoined Sam, 
feeling much braver now that the other two had 
arrived, “have you got them all right?” 

“Right here in this bag, and some more in this, 
my bucko,” chuckled Jack as he handed the two 
sacks over to Sam. 

“Ha! ha! ha!” chortled Bill under his breath 


96 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

as he climbed out of the cobble into the motor 
boat, “won't there be a fine row in the morning. ,, 

“Well, come on; start up, Sam. We've no 
time to lose," ordered Jack as he and Bill got 
aboard, “good night there, Hank." 

“Good night," rejoined Hank quietly enough, 
as the motor boat moved swiftly off over the 
moonlit sea. He added to himself, “It won't be 
a very "good night' for you, my lad, if you don't 
pay me as handsomely as you promised." 

And chuckling to himself till his shoulders 
shook, Hank resumed his oars and rowed back 
to the miserable shanty he called home. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


97 


CHAPTER VIII. 

the: STOU3N UNIFORMS. 

Rob and his old friend lost no time the next 
morning in getting down to the water-front to 
make inquiries about the captain’s missing boat. 
To their astonishment, however, almost the first 
craft that caught their eyes as they arrived at 
the L wharf to begin their search was the old 
sailor’s motor dory, to all appearances in exactly 
the same position she had occupied the preceding 
night when the captain moored her. 

“Have I clapped deadlights on my optics, or 
am I gone plumb locoed?” bellowed the amazed 
captain, as he saw the little craft dancing lightly 
on the sunny waters. 

“You are certainly not mistaken in supposing 
that is your boat. I’d know her among a thou- 
sand,” Rob assured him. “Are you quite cer- 
tain that she was not here last night, captain?” 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


98 

"Just as sure as I am that yer and me is stand- 
in’ here,” rejoined the bewildered captain. "I’ve 
sailed the seven seas in my day, and man and boy 
seen many queer things; but if this don’t beat 
cock fightin’, I’m an inky Senegambian !” 

The captain’s voice had risen to a perfect roar 
as he uttered the last words, and a sort of jack- 
of -all-trades about the wharf, whose name was 
Hi Higgins, came shuffling up, asking what was 
the trouble. 

"Trouble,” roared the hermit of Topsail Is- 
land. "Trouble enough fer all hands and some 
left over fer the cat! Say, shipmate, yer hangs 
about this here L wharf a lot. Did yer see any 
piratical humans monkeyin’ around my boat last 
night?” 

"Why, what d’yer mean, cap’n,” sniffled Hi 
Higgins. "I seen yer tie up here, and there yer 
boat is now. What d’yer mean by pira — pira — 
well, them parties yer mentioned? Yer mean 
some one took it?” 

"Took it — yes, yer hornswoggled longshore 
lubber!” bellowed the captain. "I thought yer 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


99 

was hired as a sort uv watchman on this wharf. 
A fine watchman yer are!” 

“Well, yer see, cap’n,” returned Hi Higgins, 
really alarmed at the captain’s truculent tone, “I 
ain’t here much after nine at night or before five 
in the morning.” 

“Well, was my boat here at five this morn- 
in’?” demanded the captain. 

“Sure it was,” rejoined Hi Higgins, with a 
sniffle ; “the fust boat I seen.” 

“Rob, my boy, I’m goin’ crazy in my old age!” 
gasped the captain. “I’m as certain as I can be 
that the boat wasn’t here when I came down to 
the wharf last midnight, but the pre-pon-der-ance 
of evidence is against me.” 

The captain shook his head gravely as he 
spoke. It was evident that he was sorely puzzled 
and half inclined to doubt the evidence of his 
own senses. 

“Douse my toplights,” he kept muttering, “if 
this don’t beat a flying Dutchman on wheels and 
with whiskers!” 

“I certainly don’t believe that your eyes de- 


100 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

ceived you, captain,” put in Rob, in the midst of 
the captain's rumbling outbursts. “It looks to 
me as if somebody really did borrow your boat 
last night, and that the decoy note supposed to 
be from me had something to do with it.” 

“By the great horn spoon, yer've got it, my 
boy!” roared the captain. “And now yer come 
ter speak uv it, my mind misgives me that all ain't 
right at the island. I didn't tell yer, but I left 
a tidy sum uv money in that old iron safe off the 
Sarah Jane , the last ship I commanded, and all 
this what's puzzled us so may be part uv some 
thievish scheme. 

“I'm going ter hurry over ter the island and 
make certain sure,” he went on the next minute. 
“The more I think uv it, the more signs uv foul 
weather I see. Good-by, my lad, and good luck. 
Will yer be out ter see me soon ? The bluefish are 
running fine.” 

“We may be out this afternoon, captain,” re- 
sponded Rob. “I am curious myself to see if 
any mischief has been done on your island. If 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


IOI 


there has been/’ he added earnestly, “you can 
count on the Eagle Patrol to help you out.” 

“ffhanks, my boy!” exclaimed the old man, 
who was bending over his gasolene tank. “Hul- 
lo !” fie shouted suddenly. “I wasn’t crazy ! This 
boat was took out last night. See here !” 

He held up the gasolene gauger which he had 
grabbed up and plunged into the tank. The in- 
strument was almost dry. The receptacle for 
fuel was nearly empty. 

“And I filled her before I started out!” thun- 
dered the captain. “Whoever took my boat must 
have run her a long ways.” 

Fresh fuel was soon obtained, and the captain, 
after more shouted farewells, started for the 
island to try to obtain some clue to the mysteri- 
ous happenings of the night. 

Rob, after watching him for a few moments, 
as he sped down the blue waters of the sunlit in- 
let, turned away to return to his home, just recol- 
lecting that, in their eagerness to search for the 
boat, both he and the captain had entirely for- 
gotten about breakfast. He was in the middle 


102 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


of the meal, and eagerly explaining to his inter- 
ested parents the strange incidents of the missing 
boat and the decoy note, when Merritt Crawford 
burst into the room unannounced. 

“Oh, I beg your pardon !” he apologized, 
abashed. “I didn’t know you were at breakfast. 
But, Mr. Blake — Rob — something has happened 
that I just had to come and tell you about at 
once.” 

“Good gracious! More mysteries,” Mr. Blake 
was beginning in a jocular way, when the serious 
look on the boy’s face checked him. “What is it? 
What has happened, Merritt?” he asked soberly, 
while Rob regarded the spectacle of his usually 
placid corporal’s excitement with round eyes. 

“The uniforms are all gone!” burst out Mer- 
ritt. 

“What uniforms?” 

“Ours — the Eagle Patrols’.” 

“What! Stolen?” 

“That’s right,” hurried on Merritt. “I met old 
Mrs. Jones in a terrible state of mind. You 
know, Mr. Blake, she’s the old woman who 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


103 

scrubs out the place in the morning. I asked 4 
what was the matter, and she told me that when 
she went to the armory early to-day, she found 
the lock forced and all the lockers broken open 
and the uniforms gone !” 

“Have you seen the place ?” asked Mr. Blake. 

“Yes, I followed her up. The room was 
turned upside down. The locks had been ripped 
right off and the lockers rifled of everything. 
Who can have done it?” 

“I’ll bet anything Jack Curtiss and his gang 
had something to do with it, just as I believe they 
put up some crooked job on the captain !” burst 
out Rob, greatly excited and his breakfast en- 
tirely forgotten. 

“Be careful how you make such a grave accu- 
sation,” warned his father. 

“I know it’s a tough thing to say,” admitted 
Rob; “but you don’t know that bunch like we 
do. They’d ” 

He was about to explain more of the charac- 
teristics of the bully and his cronies when a 
fresh interruption occurred. This time it was 


104 THE boy scouts of 

Hiram Nelson. He was almost as abashed as 
Merritt had been when he found that his excite- 
ment had carried him into what seemed a family 
conference. 

J "It’s all right, Hiram. Come right in,” said 
Mr. Blake cheerfully. “Come on out with your 
news, for I can see you can hardly keep it to 
yourself. ,, 

“It's going round the town like wildfire !” re- 
sponded the panting boy. The others nodded. 
“I see you know it already," he went on. “Well, 
I think Fve got a clue. ,, 

“You have ! Come on, let's hear it quick," cried 
Rob. 

“Well, I was up late with Paul Perkins last 
night, talking over the aeroplane model competi- 
tion, and didn’t start home till about midnight. 
As I was approaching the armory I thought I 
saw a light in one of the windows. I couldn’t be 
certain, however, and I put it down to a trick 
that my eyes had played me." 

“Well, that’s all right as far as it goes," burst 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


105 

out Rob. “It probably was a light. I wish you’d 
investigated.” 

“Wait a minute, Rob,” said his father, noting 
Hiram’s anxious face. “There’s more to come, 
isn’t there, Hiram?” 

“You bet! The most exciting part of it — the 
most important, I mean,” went on young Hiram, 
with an important air. 

“Oh, well, get down to it,” urged the impatient 
Rob. “What was it?” 

“Why, right after I’d seen the light,” went 
on Hiram, “I thought I saw a dark figure slip 
around the corner into that dark street.’* 

“A dark figure! Hum! Sounds like one of 
those old yellow-back novels,” remarked Mr. 
Blake, with a smile. 

“But this was a figure I recognized, sir,” ex- 
claimed Hiram. “It was Bill Bender !” 

“Jack Curtiss’ chum ! They’re as thick as two 
thieves,” burst out Merritt. 

“And I believe they are two thieves,” solemnly 
put in Rob. 

“Well,” went on Hiram, “the next minute Bill 


io6 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

Bender came walking round the corner as fast 
as if he were coming from somewhere in a great 
hurry, and was hastening home. He told me he 
had been to a birthday party at his aunt’s.” 

“At his aunt’s,” echoed Mr. Blake. “Well, 
that’s an important point, for I happen to know 
that his aunt, Mrs. Graves, is out of town. She 
visited the bank yesterday morning and drew 
some money for her traveling expenses. She 
informed me that she expected to be gone a week 
or more.” 

“I knew it, I knew it!” shouted Rob. “That 
fellow ought to be in jail. He’ll land there yet.” 

“Softly, softly, my boy,” said Mr. Blake. 
“This is a grave affair, and we cannot jump at 
conclusions.” 

“I’d jump him,” declared Rob, “if I only knew 
for certain that he was the thief !” 

“I will inform the police myself and have an 
investigation made,” Mr. Blake promised. “We 
will leave no stone unturned to find out who has 
been guilty of such an outrage.” 

“And in the meantime the Eagle Patrol will 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


107 

carry on m investigation of its own,” declared 
Rob sturdily. “What do you say, boys?” 

“Pll bet every boy in the corps is with you on 
that,” rejoined Merritt heartily. 

“Same here,” chimed in Hiram. 

“The first step is to take a run to Topsail 
Island and see if all the queer things that hap- 
pened last night have not some connecting link 
between them,” suggested Mr. Blake. “I am in- 
clined, after what you boys have told me, to think 
that they have.” 

“I am sure of it,” echoed Rob. 


io8 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER IX. 

the: hydroplane: que:e:rly rkcove:re:d. 

Seldom had the Flying Fish been urged to 
greater speed than she was a short time after the 
discovery of the looting of the scouts’ armory. 
She fairly flew across the smooth waters of the 
inlet and out on to the Atlantic swells, leaving a 
clean, sweeping bow-wave as she cut her way 
along. Her four young occupants, for Tubby had 
been called on and notified of the occurrences of 
the night, were, however, wrapped in slickers 
borrowed from the yacht club, so that the show- 
ers of spray which fell about them had little ef- 
fect on them. 

The run to. Topsail Island was made in record 
time, and as they drew near the little hummock 
of tree and shrub-covered land the boys could per- 
ceive that something unusual had happened. A 
figure which even at a distance they recognized 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


109 

as that of Captain Job Hudgins was down on 
the little wharf, and had apparently been on the 
lookout there for some time. A closer view re- 
vealed the captain waving frantically. 

"Something’s up, all right,” remarked Tubby, 
above the roar of the motor-boat’s engine. 

The others said nothing, but kept their gaze 
riveted on the captain’s figure. With the skill 
of a veteran boatman, Rob brought the Flying 
Fish round in a graceful curve and ran her clean- 
ly up to the wharf without the slightest jolt or 
jar. 

"Ahoy, lads, I’m glad yer’ve come !” exclaimed 
the captain, as he caught the painter line thrown^ 
out to him by Merritt, and skillfully made the 
boat fast. 

"Why, what has happened?” demanded Rob, 
as he sprang on to the wharf, followed by the 
others. 

"Happened?” repeated the captain. "Well, in 
a manner of speakin’, about twenty things has 
happened at once. Lads, my spirits and emo- 
tions are in a fair Chinese tornado — every which 


no THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

way at once. In the first place, I’m seventy-five 
dollars poorer than I was last night; in the sec- 
ond, poor old Skipper’s been given some kind uv 
poison that’s made him so sick I doubt he’ll get 
over it.” 

“You’ve been robbed?” gasped Merritt. 

“That’s it, my lad. That’s the word. My 
poor old safe’s been scuttled and her hold over- 
hauled. But I don’t mind that so much — it’s poor 
old Skipper I’m worried about. But come on 
up ter the house, lads, and see fer yerselves.” 

Followed by the sympathetic four, the old man 
hobbled up from his little wharf to a small emi- 
nence on which stood his neatly whitewashed hut. 
He opened the door and invited them in. A first 
glance discovered nothing much the matter, but 
a second look showed the boys poor old Skipper 
lying on the floor in front of the open fireplace — 
which was filled with fresh green boughs — and 
evidently a very sick dog indeed. He gave the 
boys a pathetic glance of recognition as they 
came in, and with a feeble wag or two of his tail 
tried to show them he was glad to see them ; but 















































































. 






































lias 














































































































































THE EAGLE PATROL 


hi 


this done, he seemed to be completely exhausted, 
and once more laid his head between his forepaws 
and seemed to doze. 

“Poor old dog,” said the captain, shaking his 
head. “I doubt if he’ll ever get about again.” 

The safe now engaged the boys’ attention. It 
is true that it was a rickety old contrivance which 
might well have been forced open with an ordi- 
nary poker, but to the captain, up to this day, it 
had been a repository as safe and secure as a 
big Wall Street trust company’s vaults. 

“Look at that, boys!” cried the captain, with 
tragic emphasis, pointing to the door, which had 
been forced clear off its rusty hinges. “Just 
busted open like yer’d taken the crust off’n a 
pie! Ah, if I could lay my hands on the fellers 
that done this, I’d run ’em up ter the yardarm 
afore a foc’sle hand could say 'Hard tack’ !” 

“Why, we think that ” began Tubby, when 

Rob checked him. The captain, who had been 
bending over his dog, didn’t hear the remark, 
and Rob hastily whispered to Tubby: 

“Don’t breathe a word to anyone of our sus- 


1 12 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


picions. Our only chance to get hold of the real 
culprits is to not give them any idea that we sus- 
pect them.” 

After a little more time spent on the island, 
the boys took their leave, promising to come 
back soon again. First, however, Rob and his 
corporal made a brief expedition to see if they 
could make out the tracks of the marauders of 
the previous evening. Whoever they had been, 
however — and the boys, as we know, had a 
shrewd guess at their identity — they had been 
too cunning to take the path, but had apparently, 
judging from the absence of all footmarks, made 
their way to the house through the coarse grass 
that grew on each side of the way. 

“Well, what are we going to do about it?” 
Tubby inquired, as they speeded back toward 
home. 

“Just what I said,” rejoined Rob. “Keep quiet 
and not let Jack or his chums know that we sus- 
pect a thing. Give them enough rope, and we'll 
get them in time. I’m certain of it.” 

How true his words were to prove, Rob at that 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


113 

time little imagined, although he felt the wisdom 
of the course he had advised. 

As they neared the inlet, Rob, who was at the 
wheel and scanning the channel pretty closely, 
for the tide was now running out, gave a sud- 
den shout and pointed ahead. As the others 
raised their eyes and gazed in the direction their 
leader indicated they, too, uttered a cry of aston- 
ishment. From the mouth of the inlet there had 
stolen a long, low, black craft, gliding through 
the water at tremendous speed. 

In the strange craft the boy scouts had little 
difficulty in recognizing Sam Redding’s hydro- 
plane. 

“So he’s got her back,” exclaimed Merritt, re- 
covering from his first astonishment. 

“Yes, and she seems little the worse for her 
experience,” remarked Tubby. “It doesn’t ap- 
pear, though, that they are going to profit by 
their lesson of the other day, for there they go 
out to sea again.” 

“Probably consulted the glass this time,” re- 


1 14 the boy scouts of 

marked Rob. "It read 'set fair’ when we started 

out” 

"Well, that’s the only kind of weather for 
them,” commented Merritt ; "though as both Jack 
and Bill can swim, I wouldn’t mind seeing them 
get a good ducking.” 

"I suppose the coincidence has struck you fel- 
lows, too?” remarked Rob suddenly, as he skill- 
fully twisted and turned the dancing Flying Fish 
through the devious ways of the channel at low 
water. 

"What on earth are you talking about?” de- 
manded Merritt. 

"Why, that it seems rather queer that Sam, 
who was round town desperately trying to raise 
money with which to get his boat out of pawn 
suddenly manages to redeem her, and that on the 
very day after the robbery of Captain Hudgins’ 
hut.” 

"By hookey, that’s right!” shouted Tubby. 
"I’ll bet your guess was correct, Rob — that gang 
of Jack’s robbed the old captain.” 

"And stole our uniforms,” put in Merritt. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


ii5 

“Yes; but how are we going to prove it?” was 
Rob's “cold water” comment which silenced 
further speculation for the time being. Each 
boy, however, determined then and there to do 
his share in running down the persons respon- 
sible for the vandalism. 

By the time they got back to Hampton the 
news had spread among the entire Eagle Patrol, 
and an indignation meeting was called in the dev- 
astated armory. Mr. Blake entered in the midst 
of it, and offered, in conjunction with the rest of 
the local council, to furnish new uniforms. On 
the matter being put to a vote, however, the lads 
all agreed that it would be better not to accept 
such an offer till they had made a determined 
effort to run down the plunderers. 

“Very well,” said Mr. Blake; “your spirit does 
you great credit, and if you need any help, don’t 
fail to call upon me at any time.” 

“Three cheers for Mr. Blake and the members 
of the council!” shouted Merritt, jumping on a 
chair. 

They were given with such roof-raising effect 


1 16 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

that people outside in the street, many of whom 
knew of the robbery, began to think that the uni- 
forms must have been recovered. 

As the lads surged out of the armory, all talk- 
ing at once about the robbery and its likely re- 
sults, whom should they encounter on the street 
but Jack Curtiss and his two chums, evidently, 
from the fact that they carried waterproof gar- 
ments over their arms, just back from their trip 
in Sam’s newly-recovered hydroplane. 

It might have been fancy, but as the eyes of 
the Boy Scouts met those of the three lads who 
would have so much liked to belong to the organ- 
ization, Rob thought that a look of embarrass- 
ment spread over Jack Curtiss’s heavy features, 
and that even Bill Bender’s brazen face took on 
a shade of pallor. If this were so, however, it 
could have been only momentary, for the next 
minute Jack, with what seemed very much over- 
done cordiality, came forward with : 

“Why, hullo, boys. I just heard about your 
loss. Any news ?” 

“No, not a word,” chirped little Joe Digby, one 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


“7 

of the few lads in the Eagle Patrol who had 
never run afoul of the bully. 

“Well,” went on Jack, affecting not to notice 
the silence with which his advances had been 
greeted, “I hope you find the fellows who did it, 
whoever they were.” 

“Same here,” chimed in Bill Bender, now quite 
at his ease, “although, at that, I guess it was only 
a joke, and you’ll get ’em back again before 
long.” 

“Do you think so, Bill?” asked Merritt, look- 
ing the bully’s crony steadily in the eye. “I hope 
so, I’m sure. By the way, Hiram Nelson here 
says that he saw you hurrying up Main Street at 
just about the time the robbery must have taken 
place. You didn’t hear any unusual sounds or 
see anything out of the way, did you ?” 

“I — why, no — I — you see, I was on my way 
home from my aunt’s home,” stuttered Bill, seem- 
ingly taken off his guard. 

“Yes; your aunt, who left home yesterday af- 
ternoon to be gone a week,” shot out Merritt. 


n8 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

“Queer that she should have changed her mind 
and come home in such a hurry.” 

“Oh, come on, Bill,” stuck in Sam, seeing that 
things were getting very unpleasant. “We've got 
to hurry up if we're to get out to Jack's in time.” 

Without another word, the three hurried off, 
seemingly not at all unrelieved to escape from 
what Merritt was pretty sure were embarrassing 
questions. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


119 


CHAPTER X. 

WINNING THE CONTEST. 

The day which was to witness the tests of the 
aeroplane models for the prizes offered by the 
professor of aeronautics dawned still and fair. 
It followed several days of storm, in which the 
boys had been unable to make any excursions in 
their motor boat, or into the country, or, indeed, 
even to devote any time to the engrossing subject 
of tracing the theft of the uniforms to its source. 

Early in the morning a small field in the rear 
of Mr. Blake's house was well filled with boys of 
all ages and sizes, watching the contestants in 
the model contest trying out their craft. The 
models were of all sorts and sizes. Some were 
freak craft that had been constructed in a hurry 
from pictures, without any attention being paid 
to scale or proportions, while others were care- 
fully made bits of mechanism. 


120 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

Among the latter class were Paul Perkins’ 
monoplane — Silver Arrow , he called it, — Hiram 
Nelson’s two models, the monoplane of Tom Ma- 
loney, a lad of about sixteen, and Ed River’s little 
duplicate of a Curtiss biplane. The contest was 
to take place on the Main Street of the town, in 
front of the bank, and in the middle of the course 
two poles had been erected, one on each side of 
the street, between which a brightly colored tape 
had then been strung, forming a sort of aerial 
hurdle. The tape was fifty feet above the ground, 
and to qualify at all it would be necessary for 
the contesting models to clear it. 

The lecture which took place in the village hall 
came first and was well attended, most of the 
young folks of Hampton being there. If the 
truth must be told, however, while the lecturer 
was expounding his subject, illustrating it on the 
blackboard with chalk drawings, the majority of 
his young hearers were wishing that it was over 
and the contest really begun. 

Especially was this true of the boys of the 
Eagle Patrol, who were every one of them anx- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


121 


ious to see what kind of aeroplanes Jack Curtiss 
and Bill Bender would have produced. The lec- 
ture, however, at last came to an end, and the 
gentlemen on the platform shook hands with the 
professor and the professor shook hands with 
them, and somebody called for three cheers for 
“Hampton’s distinguished son.” 

Everybody then lost no time in filing out into 
the afternoon sunlight, where they found quite 
a crowd already on the streets, and a small wood- 
en grand stand, which had been erected near what 
was expected to be the finishing line, seating sev- 
eral guests. The committee and the professor, 
led by the Hampton brass band, blaring away at 
patriotic airs, made their way to the front seats 
in the structure, and everybody was requested to 
line up on each side of the street, so as to make a 
clear lane for the models to fly in. 

The starting line was about a hundred yards 
from the red tape, and the contestants were com- 
pelled to stand back of this. Mr. Wingate, the 
president of the yacht club and member of the 
Boy Scout Council, had already shuffled the num- 


122 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


bers of the contestants in a hat, and they were 
to fly their models in the order in which they 
drew their figures. 

Up to this time there had been no sign of Jack 
Curtiss or Bill Bender, but the boys now saw 
them hastening up to a member of the committee 
and whispering to him. A moment later a man 
with a megaphone boomed out from the grand 
stand : 

“William Bender announces that he has with- 
drawn from the contest.” 

“Aha ! Til bet Jack's got cold feet, too,” whis- 
pered Hiram, nudging Paul, who was kneeling 
down and winding up the long rubber bands 
which drove the propellers of the Silver Arrow , 
an Antoinette model. 

But a short interval showed him to be mis- 

i* 

taken, for Jack, with his usual confident air, re- 
paired to the buggy in which he had driven into 
town from his father's farm, and speedily pro- 
duced a model that caused loud sighs of “Ohs!” 
and “Ahs !” to circulate through the juvenile por- 
tion of the crowd. 


the eagle patrol 


123 

However he had managed to accomplish it, the 
bully had certainly produced a beautiful model. 
It was of the Bleriot type, and finished perfectly 
down to the minutest detail. Every wire and 
brace on it was silvered with aluminum paint, 
and it even bore a small figure at its steering 
wheel. Beside it the other models looked almost 
clumsy. 

The faces of the Boy Scouts fell. 

“If that machine can fly as well as she looks,” 
said RQb to Merritt, “she wins the first prize.” 

“Not a doubt of it,” was Merritt’s reply. 

“Oh, well,” put in Tubby, for the three insep- 
arables were standing together, “if he can win 
the prize fairly, don’t knock him. He certainly 
has built a beautiful machine. You’ve got to 
give him credit for that.” 

And now, as Jack, with a triumphant smile at 
the glances of admiration his model excited, 
strode to the starting point, elbowing small boys 
aside, and drew from the hat, the man with the 
megaphone once more arose. He held in his 


4 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


124 

hand the result of the drawing and the order in 
which the models would fly. 

“The f-i-r-s-t model to com-pete for the big 
p-r-ize,” he bellowed, “will be that of Thomas 
Maloney — a Bler-i-ot!” 

Poor Tom might have called his machine a 
Bleriot, but it is doubtful if the designer of the 
original machine of that name would have recog- 
nized the model as having any more than a dis- 
tant relationship to the famous type of mono- 
plane. It was provided with a large tin propeller, 
however, and seemed capable of at least accom- 
plishing a flight. In fact, at the trials in the 
morning it had flown well, and by some of the 
lads was regarded as a sort of “dark horse.” As 
Tom was on the village team, as opposed to the 
Boy Scout contingent, he was greeted with loud 
cheers and whistles by his friends as he stepped 
to the starting line, and, holding his ready wound- 
up machine in his hand, made ready to launch it. 

“Crack !” went the pistol. 

At the same instant Tom, with a thrusting mo- 
tion, released his model; but, alas! instead of 


THE EAGLE PATROL 125 

darting forward like the Sparrow Hazvk it was 
named after, the craft ingloriously wobbled about 
eccentrically, and finally alighted on an old lady’s 
bonnet, causing her to exclaim as the propeller 
whizzed round and entangled itself in her hair : 

“No good’ll ever come of teaching lads to 
meddle with these here contraptions.” 

The model having finally been extricated, amid 
much laughter, and poor Tom having offered 
mortified apologies, the announcer made known 
that Hiram Nelson’s Doodlebug monoplane 
would essay a flight. 

As the pistol sounded, Hiram launched his 
craft, and amid cheers from the crowd it soared 
up, and, just clearing the red tape, settled grace- 
fully down a few feet the other side of the two- 
hundred-foot line. 

“Good for you, Hiram!” exclaimed Ernest 
Thompson, the bike scout, who was acting as a 
patrol on the course. “Whose turn next?” 

“You kids wait till I get my Bleriot started,” 
sneered Jack. Several small boys near him, who 
were mortally afraid of the big fellow and rather 


126 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

admired him as being “manly,” set up a cheer at 
this. 

“Wait for Jack’s dandy model to fly!” they 
cried. 

“Edward Rivers — model of a Cuntiss biplane !” 
came the next announcement through the mega- 
phone. 

Another cheer greeted this, as young Rivers 
was also on the “town team.” 

The little Curtiss darted into the air at the 
pistol crack and flew straight as an arrow for the 
red tape. It cleared it easily and skimmed on 
down past the grand stand, and alighted, flutter- 
ing like a tired butterfly, beyond Hiram's model. 

“Three hundred feet!” cried the announcer, 
amid a buzz of approval, after the measurers of 
the course had done their work. 

“Paul Perkins — Bleriot!” was the next an- 
nouncement. 

A hum of excitement went through the crowds 
that lined the track. It began to look as if the 
record of Ed. Rivers’ machine would be hard to 
beat, but from the determined look on his face 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


127 

and his gritted teeth it was evident that Paul 
meant to try hard. 

Before the report of the pistol had died out, 
the yellow-winged Dragonfly soared upward 
from Paul’s hand and darted Jike a streak across 
the red tape, clearing it at the highest altitude 
yet achieved by any of the models. 

“Hurrah!” yelled the crowd. 

On and on sped the little Bleriot, while Paul 
watched it with pride-flushed cheeks. It was evi- 
dent that it was going to out-distance the record 
made by Ed Rivers’ machine. The Boy Scouts 
set up their Patrol cry: 

“Kr-ee-ee-ee-ee !” 

As the little machine settled to the ground, far 
beyond the grand stand, the officials ran out with 
their tapes, and presently the announcement came 
blaring down the packed ranks of the onlookers : 

“Three hundred and fifty feet!” 

What a cheer went up then. 

“I guess you’ve got it won. Congratulations !” 
said Ed Rivers, pressing forward to Paul’s side. 

“Thanks, Ed,” returned the other ; “but 'there’s 


128 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


rhany a slip/ you know, and there are several 
others to be flown yet.” 

Now came in rapid succession several of the 
smaller models and freak designs. Some of these 
wobbled through the air and landed in the crowd. 
Others sailed blithely up toward the red tape and 
just fell short of clearing it. Another landed 
right on the tape and hung there, the target of 
irreverent remarks from the crowd. 

While this was going on, Bill Bender, Jack 
Curtiss and Sam were in close consultation. 

“Remember, you promised that if you won the 
prize you’d give that money back,” Sam whis- 
pered to Jack, “and for goodness’ sake, don’t for- 
get it. I half believe that those boys suspect us 
already.” 

“Nonsense,” returned the bully. “And what 
if they do? We covered up our tracks too well 
for them to have anything on us. They can’t 
prove anything, can they?” 

“I — I — I don’t know,” stammered Sam, and 
was about to say more, but the clarion voice of 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


129 

the announcer was heard informing the crowd 
that: 

“John Curtiss’s Bleriot model will now make a 
flight for the great prize.” 

With a confident smile on his face, Jack stepped 
forward and held his model ready. The mur- 
mur of admiration that had greeted its first ap- 
pearance was repeated as he held it high in the 
sunlight and the afternoon rays glinted and 
shimmered on its fittings and wings. 

“That’s the model for my money,” remarked a 
man in the crowd. 

“It’s going to win, too,” said Jack confidently. 

Just at that moment the pistol cracked, and 
Jack released his much-admired air craft. 

Its flight showed that it was as capable of mak- 
ing as beautiful a soaring excursion as its grace- 
ful outlines and careful finish seemed to indi- 
cate. In a long, sweeping glide, it arose and 
cleared the red tape by a greater margin than 
had Paul Perkins’ model. 

“Jack Curtiss wins!” yelled the crowd, as the 
machine soared right on and did not begin its 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


130 

downward swoop for some distance. After it 
had alighted and the measurers had laid their 
tapes on the course, the announcer megaphoned, 
amid a perfect tornado of roars and cheers : 

“The last flight, ladies and gentlemen — and ap- 
parently the winning one — accomplished the re- 
markable distance of four hundred and fifty feet 
— four hundred and fifty feet.” 

“Three cheers for Jack Curtiss !” shouted Bill 
Bender, slapping Jack heartily on the back and 
giving most of the cheers himself. 

“I guess those cubs won't be quite so stuck up 
now,” commented Sam, shaking Jack's hand 
warmly. 

“I was pretty sure I'd win,” modestly remarked 
the bully, as he began shouldering his way 
through the press toward the judges’ stand. He 
was closely followed by the boys, as it looked as 
if Paul Perkins might have won the second prize 
and Ed Rivers the third. 

Urged by Bill Bender, the band began puffing 
away at “See, the Conquering Hero Comes,” and 
Jack, nothing averse to appearing in such a role, 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


131 

bowed gracefully right and left to the admiring 
throngs. 

The professor shook hands warmly with the 
victorious Jack, and remarked: 

“You are to be congratulated, young man. I 
have rarely seen a better model, and your skill 
does you great credit. Are you thinking of tak- 
ing up aeronautics seriously ?” 

The bully, his face very red, stammered that 
he had entertained some such thoughts. 

The professor was about to reply, when there 
came a sudden sound of confusion among that 
portion of the crowd which had surrounded the 
delegates deputed to pick up the aeroplanes and 
bring them to the stand. This was in order that 
they might be exhibited as each prize was award- 
ed. A small boy with a very excited face was 
seen struggling to get through the mass, and he 
finally gained the judges’ stand. As he faced the 
congratulatory professor he stuttered out : 

“Please, sir, there’s something wrong about 
Jack Curtiss’s machine.” 

“What do you mean, you impudent young 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


I 3 2 

shaver !” shouted the bully, turning white, never- 
theless. 

“Let the lad speak,” said Mr. Blake, who as 
one of the committee was standing beside the 
professor. “What is it, my boy? Let me see. 
You’re Joe Digby, of the Eagle Patrol, aren’t 
you?” 

“Yes, sir; and I live out on a farm near Jack 
Curtiss. I was watching him fly his machine this 
morning, from behind a hedge, and I heard them 
saying something about 'their store-made ma- 
chine beating any country boy’s model.’ ” 

“He’s a young liar! Pay no attention to him,” 
stammered Jack, licking his dry lips. 

“Silence, sir!” said Mr. Blake gravely. “Let 
us listen to what this boy has to say. If he is 
not speaking the truth r you can easily disprove 
it. Go on, my boy.” 

“Well, I guess that’s about all I know about it; 
but I thought I ought to tell you, sir,” confusedly 
concluded the small lad. 

“You young runt, Pll half kill you if I catch 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


i33 

you alone !” breathed Jack, under his breath, as 
the lad sped off to join his companions. 

"Of course, you are not going to pay any at- 
tention to that kid’s — I mean boy’s — story,” de- 
manded Jack, addressing the professor. "It’s 
made out of whole cloth, I assure you.” 

In the meantime the machines had been 
brought to the grand stand and were being ex- 
amined. Naturally, after young Digby’s state- 
ment, Jack’s was one of the first to be scrutinized. 
The committee turned it over and over, and were 
about to pass on it, when Mr. Wingate, who had 
been bending attentively over the bully’s model, 
gave a sudden exclamation. 

"Look here, gentlemen,” he cried, pointing to 
a small tag which Jack had evidently forgotten 
to remove, "I think this is conclusive evidence. 
Here is the label of the 'Manhattan Model 
Works’ pasted right under this wing.” 

"Somebody must have put it there. It’s a job 
those Boy Scouts put up on me,” protested Jack. 
"I made that model every bit myself.” 

"I regret to say that we must regard the price 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


134 

tag as conclusive evidence that this machine 
comes from a store,” said the professor sternly, 
handing Jack his unlucky model. “You are dis- 
qualified for entering a machine not of your own 
workmanship. 

“Stand back, please,” he went on, as Jack tried 
to protest. “I want to say,” he went on in a loud 
tone, holding up his hand to command attention, 
“that there has been a grave mistake made. The 
machine which actually flew the longest distance 
is disqualified, as it was made at a New York 
model factory. The first prize of fifty dollars, 
therefore, goes to Paul Perkins, of the Boy 
Scouts, the second to Edward Rivers, of Hamp- 
ton, and the third to Hiram Green, also of the 
Boy Scouts. 

“Hold on one minute,” he shouted, as the 
crowd began to cheer and hoot. “There is an ad- 
ditional announcement to be made. The commit- 
tee has decided to offer a further reward of five 
dollars to Thomas Maloney, whose model shows 
evidence of praiseworthy and painstaking work.” 

As the cheers broke loose once more, Jack Cur- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


i35 

tiss and his cronies slunk off through the crowd, 
and having placed the rejected model in the bug- 
gy, drove off into the country in no very amiable 
or enviable frame of mind. 

“Well, you made a fine mess of it,” grumbled 
Bill Bender savagely. “I told you to look care- 
fully and see that all the tags were off it.” 

“It’s no more my fault than yours,” grated out 
Jack, lashing the horse savagely, to work off 
some of his rage. “It’s all the fault of those 
young cubs of Rob Blake’s. Let them look out, 
though, for I’ll get even with them before long, 
and in a way that will make them sit up and take 
notice.” 

“Don’t forget that young mischief maker, Joe 
Digby,” suggested Bill Bender. “It was all his 
fault — the young spy!” 

“Oh, I’ll attend to him,” Jack assured his 
chum, with a grating laugh that boded no good 
for the youngest member of the Eagle Patrol. 


136 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER XI. 

A FORTUNATE) DISCOVERY. 

u Want to go fishing ?” Rob inquired over the 
telephone of Merritt Crawford a few days later. 

“Sure,” was the response. 

“We can run into Topsail Island and get a 
site for the camp picked at the same time,” sug- 
gested Rob. 

“Bully! I’ll meet you at the wharf. Going to 
bring Tubby?” 

“You bet! We’ll be there in ten minutes.” 

“All right. Good-by.” 

At the time set the three boys met on the wharf 
of the yacht club, and were speedily ready to 
start on their trip. Rob brought along bluefish 
squids and lines, and Tubby — never at a loss to 
scare up a hurried lunch — had a basket full of 
good things to eat. 

The run to the island was made without inci- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 137 

dent, and the boys were glad to see that, con- 
trary to the captain’s fears, his dog Skipper 
was all right again, for the animal came bound- 
ing and barking down the wharf as they drew 
near, in token of his gladness to see them. 

Attracted by his dog’s barking, the old cap- 
tain, who was at work in a small potato patch he 
cultivated, came hobbling to meet the boys as 
they tied up and disembarked. 

'‘Well, well, boys; come ter stay?” he cheerily 
remarked, as the three lads shook hands. 

"No, we’re off after 'blues,’” said Rob; "but#, 
we thought we’d drop in and see how things are 
coming along with you, and if you have heard 
any news yet concerning the robbery.” 

"Not a thing, boys, not a thing,” said the old 
man. "In fact, I haven’t left the island since my 
old safe was busted open. Skipper, as yer see, 
got over his sickness. It’s my belief that them 
fellers fed him poisoned meat or something.” 

"I shouldn’t wonder,” remarked Rob dryly. "It 
would be quite in their line.” 

"By the way,” exclaimed the old man sud- 


138 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

denly, “a queer thing happened the other day. 
Skipper had been a-skirmishin’ round the other 
side uv the island after rabbits and critters, and 

he brought home this Wait a minute and I'll 

show it to yer.” 

After some fumbling in his pocket, the old man 
produced a torn strip of yellow material with a 
brass button attached to it. 

‘T wonder where that come from,” he re- 
marked, as he handed the fragment to Rob for 
his inspection. 

“Why, it’s khaki,” exclaimed Rob, as he felt it. 
“And, by hokey!” he ejaculated the next instant, 
“it’s a piece of a Boy Scout uniform !” 

Old Skipper was jumping about in great ex- 
citement, and endeavoring to sniff the bit of torn 
material as Rob examined it, and a sudden idea 
struck the boy. 

“I wonder if Skipper could pilot us to where 
he found this bit of material.” 

“Are you sure it’s a bit of uniform?” asked 
Tubby doubtfully. 

“Certain of it. No one else wears khaki in 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


i39 

these parts. Hey, Skipper, hey, good dog! Sic 
’em, sic ’em !” cried Rob, holding up the khaki for 
the intelligent creature to see. 

The animal seemed to be greatly excited and 
gave short, quick barks as he danced about the 
boys. 

“Well, we might try and see if he will lead us 
anywhere,” remarked Merritt somewhat dubi- 
ously. “At any rate, there’s no harm done, ex- 
cept wasting a little time; and if we can get on 
the track of our uniforms, it’s not such a much 
of a waste, after all.” 

“He sure wants ter be off somewhere,” ob- 
served the old captain, watching the antics of 
his dog, whom he regarded in the light of a hu- 
man being. “He never acts nor talks that way 
unless he’s got suthin’ on his mind. Yer boys 
follow him, and I’ll bet he’ll lead yer ter suthin’. 
It may be nothin’ more than a dead rabbit, and it 
may be what ye think. I’ll stay here an’ dig my 
pertaters, fer my rheumatiz is powerful bad to- 
day.” 

“Very well, captain. We sha’n’t be long,” re- 


i 4 o THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

joined Rob, calling to the dog. “Hey, Skipper, 
hey, old boy! After ’em, Skipper — after ’em !” 

The dog bounded on ahead of the three boys, 
occasionally looking back to see if they were fol- 
lowing and then plunging on again. 

“As the captain said, he ‘sure has got suthin’ 
on his mind’!” laughed Merritt. 

After traversing about a mile of beach, the 
dog suddenly bounded into a thicket overhanging 
the shore and began barking furiously. 

“He’s treed something, all right,” remarked 
Rob, pushing the branches aside. 

The next minute he gave a loud shout of 
triumph. 

“Look there, boys ! Old Skipper sure did ‘have 
suthin’ on his mind’!” 

Peering over Rob’s shoulder, the other two 
were able to make out two hidden sacks, the 
mouth of one of which had been torn open, evi- 
dently by the investigating Skipper. 

From the aperture appeared the torn sleeve of 
a Boy Scout’s uniform, and a brief searching of 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


141 

the sacks after they had been lugged out on the 
beach revealed the entire stolen equipment. 

“Bones for you, Skipper, for the rest of your 
life!” promised Tubby, as the dog, evidently well 
pleased with the petting he received and the ad- 
miration showered upon him, pranced about on 
the beach and indulged in a hundred antics. 

The only one of the uniforms damaged was 
the one that Skipper had torn. The others were 
all intact, but badly crumpled, having been hast- 
ily thrust into the sacks, and, as it appeared, 
stamped down to make them fit more compactly. 

“Well, what do you know about that?” was 
Merritt’s astonished exclamation, as one by one 
Rob drew forth the regimentals and laid them 
on the beach. 

“You mean what does Jack Curtiss and Com- 
pany know about that,” seriously returned Rob. 

“However, we found them — that’s one thing 
to be enthusiastic over,” observed Tubby sagely. 

“I’d like just as well almost to find out exactly 
who hid them there,” was Merritt’s reply. 

“The same folks that stole the old captain’s 


142 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

seventy-five dollars, I guess,” returned Rob, 
thrusting the garments back into the sacks pre- 
paratory to carrying them to the boat. “Here, 
Tubby, you carry this one — it’ll take some of that 
fat off you to do a hike along the beach with it. 
I’ll shoulder this one.” 

“Well, boys, yer certainly made a haul, thanks 
ter old Skipper here,” declared Captain Job, after 
the delighted boys had made known their dis- 
covery. “He’s a smart one, I tell yer. No bet- 
ter dog ever lived.” 

“That’s what we think,” agreed Merritt warm- 
ly, patting old Skipper’s black and white head. 

The recovery of the uniforms had quite put all 
thoughts of blue or any other fishing out of the 
boys’ heads, and after bidding farewell to the 
captain, who promised to point out to them a 
good site for a camp on their next visit, they 
made their best speed back to Hampton. On 
their way to the armory they spread the news of 
their discovery broadcast, so that in a short time 
the town was buzzing with the information that 
the Boy Scouts’ lost uniforms had been found 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


i43 

under most surprising circumstances; and the 
editor of the Hampton News , who was just going 
to press, held his paper up till he could get in an 
item about it. 

It was this item that caught Jack Curtiss' eye 
the next morning as he and Bill Bender and Sam 
were seated in Bill's “club room." 

“Confound those brats, they seem always to 
be putting a spike in our schemes!" muttered 
Jack, as he handed the paper to Bill for that 
worthy's perusal. “Which reminds me," he went 
on, “that we haven't attended to the case of that 
young Digby yet." 

“I wish you'd leave those kids alone for a 
while, Jack," objected Sam, in his usual whining 
tones. “You've had your fun with them. They've 
had to do without their uniforms for a long time. 
Now let up on them, won't you?" 

“Oh, you're feeling friendly toward 'em now, 
are you?" sneered Jack. 

“Oh, no, it isn't that," Sam hastened to assure 
him ; “nothing of the kind. What I mean is that 
we are liable to get into serious trouble if we 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


144 

keep on this way. I saw Hank Handcraft the 
other day, and I can tell you he's in no very 
amiable mood. He wants his money for the other 
night, he says, and he intimated that if he didn’t 
get it he'd make things hot for us." 

“He'd better not," glowered Bill Bender, look- 
ing up from his paper. “We know a few things 
about friend Hank." 

“Yes, and he knows a good deal about us that 
wouldn't look well in print," retorted Sam gloom- 
ily. “I wish I'd never gone into that thing the 
other night." 

“Pshaw, it was just borrowing a little money 
from the old man, wasn’t it?" snorted Jack. 
“We’ll pay it back some time." 

“When we get it," rejoined Sam more gloomily 
than ever; “and I don’t see much immediate 
chance of that." 

“Oh, well, cheer up ; we’ll get it all right some- 
how," Jack assured him. “And in connection 
with that I've got a scheme. Why shouldn't we 
three fellows go camping after the motor-boat 
races?" 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


H5 

“Go camping — where ?” asked Bill, looking up 
surprised. 

“Well, I would have suggested Topsail Island, 
but those pestiferous kids are going there, I hear. 
However, there are plenty of other islands right 
inside the Upper Inlet. What’s the matter with 
our taking possession of one of those ?” 

The Upper Inlet was a sort of narrow and 
shallow bay a short distance above Topsail 
Island, and was well known to both Bill and Jack, 
who had been there in the winter on frequent 
ducking expeditions. 

“We might as well do something like that be- 
fore school opens,” said Sam. “I think that 
Jack’s suggestion is a pretty good one.” 

“I don’t know that it’s so bad myself,” patron- 
izingly admitted Bill; “but what connection has 
that with your scheme for getting money, Jack?” 

“A whole lot,” replied the bully. “I’m going 
to get even with that young Digby if it takes me 
a year. He cost me the fifty-dollar prize, and, 
beside that, all the kids in the village now call 


146 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

me ‘cheater/ and hardly anybody will have any- 
thing to do with me.” 

“Well, how do you propose to get even by 
going camping ?” inquired Bill. 

“I plan to take that Digby kid with me,” re- 
joined Jack calmly. 

“You’re crazy!” exclaimed Bill. “Why, we’d 
have the whole country after us for kidnapping.” 

“Oh, I’ve got a better plan than that,” laughed 
Jack coolly, “and we won’t need to be mixed up 
in it at all. It’ll all come back on Hank Hand- 
craft. I owe him a grudge for bothering me 
about money, anyhow, the old beach-combing 
nuisance i” 

“But where do we come in to get any benefit 
out of it?” demanded Sam. 

“I’ll explain that to you later,” said Jack 
grandiloquently. “I haven’t quite worked out all 
the details yet; but if you’ll meet me here this 
evening I’ll have them all hot and smoking for 
you.” 




THE EAGLE PATROL 


i47 


CHAPTER XII. 

JACK FORMS A PLOT. 

The next morning Jack lost no time in making 
his way toward Hank Handcraft’s tumble-down 
abode. He found its owner in, and likewise dis- 
posed to be quarrelsome. 

“Oh, here you are at last !” exclaimed the hairy 
and unkempt outcast, as the bully approached 
heavily through the yielding sand. “I’d about 
given you up, and was seriously contemjjjjating 
making a visit to your home ” 

“If you ever did,” breathed Jack threateningly. 

“Well,” grinned Hank impudently, with his 
most malicious chuckle, “if I did, what then ?” 

“I’d have you thrown out of the house,” 
calmly replied Jack, seating himself on a big 
log of driftwood, once the rib of a schooner that 
went ashore on the dangerous shoals off Hamp- 
ton and pounded herself to pieces. 

“Oh, no; you wouldn’t have me thrown out!” 


148 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

chuckled Hank, resuming his task of scaling a 
mackerel. “ 'Cause if you did, I'd go to the 
chief of police and tell him something about the 
robbery of the armory and the cracking of old 
man Hudgins' safe." 

“You wouldn't dare to do that!" sneered Jack. 
“You are implicated in that as badly as we are." 

“That's a matter of opinion," rejoined Hank, 
industriously scraping away at his fish, and show- 
ing no trace of any emotion in his pale eyes. 
“Anyhow, what I want right now is some cash. 
You agreed to pay me well for what I did the 
other night, and I haven't seen the money yet." 

“Be a little patient, can't you?" irritably re- 
torted the other. “Money doesn't grow on trees. 
Now listen, Hank. How would you like to get a 
nice little sum of money — more than I could give 
you — for camping out on Kidd's Island, in the 
Upper Inlet, for a few days?" 

Hank's fishy eyes showed some trace of feeling 
at this. 

“What do you mean?" he asked. “Is this a 
new joke you're putting up on me?" 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


149 

“No, I am perfectly serious. You can make 
a good sum by following our directions, and I’ll 
see that you get into no trouble over it.” 

“Well, if you can do that, I’ll keep my mouth 
shut,” chuckled Hank in his mirthless way; “but 
if I don’t get some money pretty quick, I’m go- 
ing to make trouble fer somebody, I tell you !” 

“Haven’t you got some place where we can 
talk that is less exposed than this?” said Jack, 
looking about him apprehensively. 

“Sure, there’s my mansion,” grinned Hank, 
pointing over his shoulder with a fishy thumb. 

“That’s the place,” said Jack, “although I wish 
you’d clean it out occasionally. Now listen, 
Hank, here’s the plan ” 

Still talking, the ill-assorted pair entered the 
ruinous shack. 

* * * * * * 

Motor-boat engines were popping everywhere. 
The club house was dressed in bright-colored 
bunting from veranda rail to ridge pole. Ladies 
strolled about beneath their parasols with cor- 
rectly dressed yachtsmen, asking all sorts of ab- 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


150 

surd questions about the various boats that lay 
ready to take part in the various events. It was 
the day of the Hampton Yacht Club's regatta. 

Among the throng the Boy Scouts threaded 
their way, watching with interest the events as 
they were run off, one after the other. But their 
minds were centered on the race for the trophy 
which, although there were several other entries, 
had been practically conceded to Sam Redding's 
hydroplane. 

“She's a wonder," said one of the onlookers, 
pointing from the porch to the float, where Jack 
Curtiss, Bill Bender and Sam were leaning over 
^their speedy craft, stripping her of every bit of 
weight not absolutely necessary. On the oppo- 
site side of the float the crew of the Flying Fish , 
the Snark , the Bonita and the Albicore were 
equally busy over their craft. 

“Douse the engine with oil," directed Rob, as 
Merritt gave the piece of machinery a final in- 
spection; “and how about that extra set of bat- 
teries?" 

“They're aboard," rejoined Tubby, who was 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


151 

perspiringly removing cushions and other sur- 
plus gear from the fleet boat. 

“That’s right ; if it comes to an emergency, we 
may need them,” said Rob. “Nothing like being 
prepared.” 

“Do you think we have any show ?” asked Tub- 
by, who was to be a sort of general utility man 
in the crew. Rob was to steer. 

“I don’t see why not,” rejoined the other, wip- 
ing his oily hands on a bit of waste. “The race is 
a handicap one, and we get an allowance on ac- 
count of our engine not being as powerful as the 
hydroplane’s.” 

The course to be run was a sort of elongated, 
or isosceles triangle. The turning point was at 
the head of the inlet, a buoy with a big red ball 
on it being placed just inside the rough waters 
of the bar. It made a course of about five miles. 
The race for the Hampton Motor Boat Club’s 
cup, for which the boys and the others were en- 
tered, was twice round. 

The waters about the club house were so dotted 
with motor craft which darted about in every 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


152 

direction that Commodore Wingate of the club 
and the other regatta officials had a hard time 
keeping the course clear for the contestants. On 
the threat, however, that the races would be 
called off if a clear course was not kept, order 
was finally obtained. 

The boys were too busy to pay much attention 
to the results of the other races, but a member of 
the club who had won the Blake trophy for the 
cabin cruiser boats, warned the boys to beware of 
the turn above the far buoy. 

“It’s choppy as the dickens there,” he said, as 
he made his way to the club house, “and you want 
to take the turn easily. Don’t 'bank’ it, or you’ll 
lose more than you gain.” 

The boys thanked him for his advice, and laid 
it to heart to be used when the race was on. 

Sam’s boat having been tuned up to the last 
notch of readiness, Jack Curtiss strolled conse- 
quentially about on the float, making bets freely 
on the hydroplane’s chance of winning. 

“I’ll bet you twenty-five to any odds you like 
that the hydroplane wins the race,” he said, ad- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 153 

dressing Colin Maxwell, the son of a well-to-do 
merchant from a neighboring town. Young 
Maxwell had heard nothing of Jack’s mean trick 
in the aeroplane contest, and therefore didn’t 
mind talking to him. 

‘‘I like the look of the Flying Fish pretty well,” 
was the response, “and I’ll take you up. You’ll 
have to give me odds, though.” 

“Oh, certainly,” responded the bully, with a 
confident grin ; “twenty-five to thirty, say.” 

“Make it thirty-five.” 

“All right; done,” said Jack. “You know me, 
of course; no necessity of putting up the money.” 

“Oh, not the least,” rejoined the other politely, 
though had he known the state of Jack’s finances 
he might have thought differently. 

The bully went about making several bets at 
similar odds, until finally Bill Bender came up 
behind him and in a low voice warned him to be 
careful. 

“What are you going to do if we lose?” he 
breathed. “You haven’t got a cent to pay with.” 

“Oh, it’s like taking gum from a busted slot 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


i54 

machine,” rejoined the bully, with a laugh. “They 

can’t win. We know what their boat can do, and 
* 

the race is practically conceded to us. Be- 
sides " he placed his hand close to Bill's ear 

and whispered a few minutes. “I guess that's a 
bad scheme, eh?" he resumed in a louder tone, 
though his voice was still pitched too low for 
those about to hear him. “If it's done right, 
we'll ram them and it’ll never be noticed." 

“Hum, I'm not so sure," grunted Bill. “How- 
ever, if we really perceive we are losing, I don’t 
see what else we are to do. Are you going to 
steer?" 

“Sure. Sam lost his nerve at the last moment — 
like him, eh? It's a good thing, though, I’m to 
be at the wheel, because I don't think Sam would 
have had the courage to carry out my plan." 

“Not he," said Bill, with a shrug. “He’s got 
the backbone of a snail." 

More of this interesting conversation was cut 
short by the “bang" of the pistol which warned 
the contestants of the racing boats to get ready. 

“The race for the Hampton Yacht Club's 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


i55 

trophy will take place in five minutes !” cried the 
announcer. 

The five contestants cast off from the float and 
slowly chugged out to a position in the rear of 
the starting line and behind the committee boat. 
Then came the nervous work of awaiting the 
starting gun. The boys had all donned slickers, 
and the crew of the hydroplane wore rubber 
coats which covered them completely. A sort of 
spray hood had been erected over the hydro- 
plane's engines. 

“That means she’s going to do her best,” re- 
marked Rob, pointing to this indication that great 
speed was expected. “That’s what we want to 
do, too, isn’t it?” 

At last came the gun that started off the Snark, 
the Bonita and the Albicore, which were all of 
about the same speed. 

“Our turn next,” said Rob, who had previously 
received his instructions from the committee. 

“Well, I’m all ready,” said Merritt, nervously 
twisting a grease cup. 


* 156 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER XIII. 

the: “FLYING fish” on hfr mettle:. 

“Bang!” 

With a nervous twitch, Rob threw in the first 
speed clutch, for the engine had been kept run- 
ning on her neutral speed, and was able to take 
up way as soon as the propeller began to “bite.” 

Rapidly the boy increased the speed up to the 
third “forward,” and the Flying Fish darted 
through the water like a pickerel after a fat frog. 

“Bang!” came behind them once more, as the 
sound of the cheers which greeted them as they 
shot across the line grew faint. 

“Crouch low!” shouted Rob back to his crew. 
“Well need every inch of advantage we can get.” 

The white spray shot in a perfect fountain 
from the sharp bow of the Flying Fish , and her 
every frame and plank quivered under the vibra- 
tion of her powerful engine. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


i57 

“She’s doing better than she ever did !” shouted 
Merritt to Tubby, who crouched in the center of 
the boat, ready to take any part in an emergency. 

The other nodded and kept his eyes ahead on 
the white wake of the other three craft. 

Suddenly the Albicore began to fall back. As 
the Flying Fish roared by her, Rob heard a shout 
of something about “missing fire.” 

A steady downpour of spray was drenching the 
occupants of the racer, but they paid scant heed 
to it. Rob dived in his pockets and put on a pair 
of goggles. The spray was blinding him. He 
waved to Tubby to go further astern and keep 
the rear part of the boat well down when they 
made the sharp turn at the red buoy. 

In an incredibly short time, it seemed, the turn- 
ing buoy faced them. Rob set his wheel over and 
spun the Flying Fish through the rougher water 
at the mouth of the inlet at as sharp an angle as 
he dared. In a few seconds more they had 
passed the Snark and the Bonita , which were rac- 
ing bow and bow. The crew of the Flying Fish, 
though, knew that both boats had a time allow- 


158 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

ance over them, so that the mere passing didn’t 
mean much, unless they could increase the lead. 

Faster and faster the boy’s craft forged ahead. 
A thrill shot through Rob’s frame. The Flying 
Fisk was showing what she was made of. 

But as he turned his head swiftly he saw that 
the hydroplane had rounded the stake and was 
coming down the straight stretch of water like 
an express train. A great wave of water shot 
out on either side of her bow. So low in the 
water had her powerful engines dragged her that 
she seemed to be barely on the surface, and yet, 
as the boys knew, she was actually “coasting” 
over the surface. 

Try as he would, Rob could not get an ounce 
more speed out of the Flying Fish, and as the 
speedy hydroplane roared by them they heard a 
mocking shout from her crew. 

Rob, more determined than ever to stick it out, 
sent the Flying Fish plunging at top speed 
through the wash of the speedy craft, hoping to 
keep up the distance between them at least equal. 
But as he saw the hydroplane gradually drawing 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


159 

away and heard the great roar that went up from 
the thrilled spectators as she shot by the club 
house, his heart sank. 

It looked as if the Flying Fish was beaten. And 
now the club house loomed near once more. 

“Go on, Flying Fish , go on !” 

“You’ve got a time allowance on her! ,, 

“Push along, Rob !” 

“Kr-ee-ee-ee-ee !” 

A tumult of other shouts roared in Rob’s ears 
as they tore past the crowded porch. 

“Kr-ee-ee-ee-ee!” screamed back Merritt and 
Tubby, with waves of the hand to the brown- 
uniformed figures they could see perched on every 
point of vantage. 

Suddenly the Flying Fish began to creep up 
on the hydroplane, which had slowed down for 
some reason. 

“Hurrah ! We’ve got ’em now !” shouted Mer- 
ritt, as he saw, far ahead, Jack and the other two 
occupants of the seeming winner leaning over the 
craft’s engine, the hood having been raised. 

Rob said nothing, but with burning eyes clung 


i6o THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

to the wheel and shot the Flying Fish straight 
ahead on her course. 

As they thundered past the hydroplane, the 
slender craft lay almost motionless on the water, 
with a great cloud of blue smoke tumbling out of 
her exhausts. 

“Looks like they’ve flooded her cylinder,” said 
Merritt, observing these signs. 

“Kr-ee-ee-ee-ee !” 

It was Tubby giving utterance triumphantly to 
the Eagle scream. 

Jack Curtiss straightened up angrily as he 
heard, his face black and greasy from his re- 
searches into the engine. He shook a menacing 
fist at the others as they tore by. The next min- 
ute, however, a quick look back by Rob showed 
that the hydroplane was coming ahead again, and 
that the engine trouble, whatever it was, had been 
adjusted. 

As they neared the turning point, Rob saw, to 
his dismay, that the hydroplane was creeping 
up faster and faster. It was the last lap, and if 


THE EAGLE PATROL 161 

Sam Redding's boat passed them at the stake the 
race was as good as over. 

‘‘Come on, Flying Fish! Come on!” shouted 
Rob, as the hydroplane crept ever nearer and 
nearer to his boat's stern. 

Rob noticed, as he swung a trifle wide of the 
stake raft, that it seemed to be the intention of 
Jack Curtiss, who was at the wheel, to swing the 
hydroplane round the sharp angle of the course 
inside of the Flying Fish . Guessing that this 
would mean disaster to her ill-advised occupants, 
he waved his hand at them to keep out. 

“When we need your advice we’ll send for it. 
This is the time we've got you!” yelled Jack Cur- 
tiss, bending low over his wheel, as he grazed by 
the Flying Fish's stern to take the inside course. 

At the same instant, so quickly that the boys 
did not even get a mental picture of it, the hydro- 
plane overturned. 

Taking the curve at such a speed and at such 
a sharp angle had, as Jack had surmised, proved 
too much for her stability. 


i 6 2 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

Her occupants were pitched struggling into the 
water. 

“Shall we pick them up ?” yelled Merritt. 

“No,” shouted Rob; “they've all got life belts 
on. A launch from the club will get them.” 

Indeed, as he spoke a launch was seen putting 
off to the rescue. The accident had been wit- 
nessed from the club, and as the water was warm, 
the boys were satisfied that no harm would come 
to the three from their immersion. 

But the delay almost proved fatal to the Flying 
Fish's chance of winning. Close behind her now 
came creeping up the speedy Albicore. 

But a few hundred feet before the finish the 
Flying Fish darted ahead once more, and shook 
off her opponent amid a great roar of yells and 
whoops and cheers. An instant later she shot 
across the line — a winner. 

“Bang !” went the gun, in token that the race 
was finished. 

“I congratulate you,” said Commodore Win- 
gate, as the boys brought their craft up to the 
float. “It was a well-fought race.” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 163 

And now came the captains of the Albicore, 
Snark and Bonita. 

“You won the race fairly and squarely,” said 
the former, shaking Rob’s hand. “I presume, 
commodore, the time was taken?” 

“It has been,” replied that official. “The Fly- 
ing Fish wins by one minute and four and seven- 
hundredths seconds.” 

More cheers greeted this announcement, 
mingled with laughter and some sympathy, as the 
club launch, towing the capsized hydroplane, 
puffed up to the float. From the launch emerged 
three crestfallen figures with dripping garments. 
But wet as he was, Jack Curtiss was not going to 
surrender the race without a protest. 

“A foul! We claim a foul! The Flying Fish 
fouled us !” he shouted. 

“My dear young man,” calmly replied the com- 
modore, “I was watching you every foot of the 
way through binoculars, and I should rather say 
that you fouled the Flying Fish . Anyhow, you 
should have better sense than to try to shave 
round that turn so closely.” 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


164 

More mortified, and angrier than ever, Jack 
strode off to put on dry clothes, followed by his 
equally chagrined companions, who, however, had 
sense enough now not to make any protests. 
They knew well enough that Jack, in his hurry 
to grab the prize, had attempted a foolish and 
dangerous thing which had cost them the race. 

“A great race, a great race,” said Mr. Blake, 
as the boys, followed by the crowd, entered the 
club house, where the awards were to be dis- 
tributed. “You boys certainly covered yourselves 
with glory,” he went on. 

“Yes, and here is your reward. I hope it will 
stimulate you to put up a fine defense for it next 
year,” said Commodore Wingate, handing to the 
elated boys a fine engraved silver cup, the trophy 
of the Hampton Yacht Club.” 

“Get up and make a speech !” shouted some one. 

The boys felt inclined to run for it. 

“Go ahead ! Make some sort of a talk,” urged 
Rob, helping Tubby on to the platform from 
which the prizes had been handed out. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” puffed the stout 


THE EAGLE PATROL 165 

youth, “we want to thank you for your congratu- 
lations and thank the club for the fine cup. Er — 
er — er — we thank you/' 

And having made what was perhaps quite as 
good a speech as some of his elders', Tubby 
stepped down amid loud and prolonged cheering. 

Up in the dressing room Jack and his cronies, 
changing into other garments, heard the sounds 
of applause. 

“It's high time something was done," said Bill, 
as he gazed from a window at several of the 
yacht club attendants bailing out the unlucky 
hydroplane. “Those young beggars will be own- 
ing the town next." 


1 66 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER XIV. 

The: e:agtes in camp. 

The next few days were full of excitement and 
preparation for the Boy Scouts. Their head- 
quarters resounded all day to the tramp of feet, 
and the Manual of Instructions was consulted day 
and night. The official tents had arrived, and 
every boy in the Patrol was eager for the time to 
arrive to put them up. So much so that two or 
three confessed that they could hardly sleep at 
night in their impatience for the hour when the 
embarkation for Topsail Island was to take place. 

Besides the tents, there was much other equip- 
ment to be overhauled and set in order, for, be- 
fore their departure, the boys were to be reviewed 
by their scout master and a field secretary from 
New York. There were haversack straps to be 
replaced, laces mended, axes sharpened, “Billys” 
polished and made to shine like new tin, and a 


THE EAGLE PATROL 167 

hundred and one things to be done. At last, 
however — although it seemed that it would never 
come — the eventful Monday arrived, as eventful 
days of all kinds have a habit of doing; and the 
Eagle Patrol, spick and span and shining from 
tan boots to campaign hats, fell in line behind the 
band. Proudly they paraded up the street, with 
their green and black Eagle Patrol sign fluttering 
gallantly in the van. 

The “reviewing stand” was the post-office 
steps, around which most of the citizens of 
Hampton and the proud parents and relatives of 
the young scouts were assembled. 

Plenty of applause greeted them, as, in re- 
sponse to Rob’s orders, given in the sharp, mili- 
tary manner, they drew up in line and gave the 
Boy Scout’s salute. This done, the young scouts 
went through a smart drill with the staffs they 
carried. Then, after saluting once more, and 
being warmly complimented on their appearance 
by the field secretary, they marched off to the 
wharf where they were to embark for their 


camp. 


1 68 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


The day before Merritt, Hiram Nelson, Paul 
Perkins and the three “tenderfeet” — Martin 
Green, Walter Lonsdale and Joe Digby — had 
been told off by Rob as on “pioneer service”; 
that is to say, that they had gone down to the 
island in the Flying Fish. Arrived there, they 
selected a good spot for the camp, aided by Com- 
modore Wingate’s and Captain Hudgins’ sug- 
gestions, and set up the tents and made the other 
necessary preparations. The camp was there- 
fore practically ready for the “army” to move 
into. 

At Tubby’s special request, a list of the rations 
for the week’s camp had been made out by Rob 
and affixed to the bulletin board in the head- 
quarters of the Eagles. As perhaps some of my 
young readers may care to know what to take on 
a similar expedition, here is the list, exclusive of 
meat, which was to be brought from the main- 
land, and fish, which they expected to catch them- 
selves : 

Oatmeal, 8 lbs.; rice, 4 lbs.; crackers, 35 lbs.; 
chocolate, 1 1-2 lbs.; tea, 3 lbs; coffee, 1 lb.; lard, 


THE EAGLE PATROL 169 

6 lbs.; sugar, 8 lbs.; condensed milk, 10 cans; 
butter, 4 lbs.; eggs, 12 dozen; bacon, 20 lbs.; 
preserves, 14 jars; prunes, 8 lbs.; maple 
syrup and molasses, 4 quarts ; potatoes, 1 bushel ; 
white beans, 6 quarts ; canned corn, 6 tins ; canned 
tomatoes, 6 tins; flour, 35 lbs.; baking powder, 2 
lbs.; salt, 4 lbs.; pepper, 2 ounces. , 

“Well,” Tubby had remarked, as he gazed at- 
tentively at the list, “we won’t starve, anyhow.” 

“I should say not,” laughed Rob ; “and besides 
all that, I’ve got lots of lines and squids, and the 
blues and mackerel are running good.” 

“Can’t I take along my twenty-two rifle — that 
island’s just swarming with rabbits, and I think 
I heard some quail when we were there the other 
day,” pleaded Merritt. 

“Not in season,” answered Rob laconically. 
“Laws not up on them till November.” 

“Oh, bother the law!” blurted out Merritt. 
“However, I suppose if there wasn’t one there 
wouldn’t be any rabbits left.” 

“I guess you’re right,” agreed Tubby. “Still, 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


170 

it does seem hard to have to look at them skip 
about and not be able to take a shot at them.” 

“Maybe we can set a springle and snare some, ,, 
hopefully suggested Tubby, as a way out of the 
difficulty; “that wouldn’t be as bad as shooting 
them, you know, and I can build a springle that 
will strangle them instantaneously.” 

“No fair, Tubby,” laughed Rob. “You know, 
a boy scout promises to obey the law, and the 
game law is as much a law as any other.” 

Arrived at the L wharf, the boys found the 
Flying Fish and Captain Hudgins’ Barracuta 
waiting for them. With much laughter they piled 
in — their light-heartedness and constant joking 
reminding such onlookers, as had ever seen the 
spectacle, of a band of real soldiers going to the 
front or embarking for foreign stations. 

With three ear-splitting cheers and a final yell 
of, “Kr-ee-ee-ee-ee !” the little flotilla got under 
way. 

They arrived at the camping ground at the 
northeast end of the island before noon, and 
found that the “pioneers” appointed by Rob had 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


171 

done their work well. Each tent was placed se- 
curely on a level patch of sandy ground, cleared 
from brush and stamped flat. The pegs were 
driven extra deep in anticipation of a gale, and 
an open cook tent, with flaps that could be fast- 
ened down in bad weather, stood to one side. 

A small spring had been excavated by the pion- 
eers, and an old barrel sunk in place, which had 
filled in the night and now presented sparkling 
depths of cool, clear water. 

“I suppose that water is all right, captain ?” 
inquired Leader Rob, with a true officer’s regard 
for his troops. 

“Sweet as a butternut, son,” rejoined the old 
man. “Makes the sick strong and the strong 
stronger, as the medicine advertisements say.” 

For the present, the cooking was to be done 
on a regular camp fire which was built between 
two green logs laid lengthwise and converging 
toward the end. The tops of these had, under 
Commodore Wingate's directions, been slightly 
flattened with an axe. At each end a forked 
branch had been set upright in the ground, with 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


172 

a green limb laid between them. From this limb 
hung “cooking hooks/’ consisting of green 
branches with hooked ends at one extremity to 
hang over the long timber, and a nail driven in 
the other from which to hang the pots. 

“That’s the best form of camp fire, boys,” said 
Commodore — or perhaps we would better call 
him scout master now — Wingate, who had accom- 
panied the boys to see them settled. “Now, then, 
the next thing to do is to run up the Stars and 
Stripes and plant the Eagle flag. Then you’ll be 
all O. K.” 

Little Andy Bowles made the woods behind 
them echo with the stirring call of “assembly,” 
and halliards were reeved on a previously cut 
pole, about fifteen feet in height. The Stars and 
Stripes were attached, and while the whole com- 
pany stood at attention and gave the scout salute, 
Scout Master Wingate raised the colors. Three 
loud, shrill cheers greeted Old Glory as it blew 
bravely out against the cloudless blue. 

“That’s a pretty sight now, shiver my timbers 
if it ain’t,” observed old Captain Hudgins, who 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


173 

had stood, hat in hand, during the ceremony. 
“I’ve seen Old Glory in many a foreign port, and 
felt like takin' off my hat and givin' three cheers 
fer the old flag; but I never seen her look better 
or finer than she does a-streakin' out from that 
there bit of timber/' 

“Now, Patrol cooks," was Scout Master Win- 
gate's next command, “it's only an hour to din- 
ner time, and we want the first mess to be right. 
Come on, and we'll get the pot boiling." 

Cook duty fell that day to Hiram Nelson and 
Walter Lonsdale, and under the scout master's 
directions they soon had potatoes peeled, beans 
in water, and a big piece of stew meat chopped 
up with vegetables in a capacious pot. 

After every errand to the store tent, Walter 
was anxious to know if it was not yet time to 
light the fire. 

“Never be in a hurry to light your fire when 
you are in the woods," rejoined the scout master ; 
“otherwise you will be so busy tending the fire 
you won't be able to prepare your food for cook- 
ing. Now we're all ready for the fire, though, 


174 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


and you can bring me some dry bark and small 
sticks from that pile of wood the pioneers laid 
in yesterday.” 

This was promptly done, and the lads watched 
the next step with interest. They saw the scout 
master take a tiny pile of the sticks and then 
light a roll of bark and thrust it into them. 

“I thought you piled them up all criss-cross,” 
remarked Hiram. 

“No woodsman does that, my boy,” was the re- 
joinder. “Now get me some larger timber from 
that pile, and I’ll show you how to go about it 
like regular trappers.” 

The fire builder shoved the ends of the sticks 
into the blaze and then the bean pot was hung 
in place. 

“We won’t put the potatoes on now, as they 
take less time,” he remarked; “those beans will 
take the longest.” 

Soon the heat was leaping up about the pots, 
and the cheerful crackle and incense of the camp 
fire filled the air. As the sticks burned down 


THE EAGLE PATROL 175 

the scout master shoved the ends farther into 
the blaze, instead of throwing them on top of it. 

“Now, then, boys, you've had your first lesson 
in camp fire making and cooking," he announced. 
“Now go ahead, and let's see what kind of a 
dinner you can produce. I'm going for a tour of 
exploration of the island." 

Among the other things the pioneers had ac- 
complished was the building of a table large 
enough to seat the entire Patrol, with planks set 
on logs as seats. Hiram put Walter to setting 
this, while he burned his fingers and smudged 
his face over his cookery. Long before the beans 
seemed any nearer to what experience taught 
the young cook they ought to be, Walter an- 
nounced that the table was all set, with its tin 
cups and dishes and steel knives and forks. 

Suddenly, while Hiram was considering put- 
ting the potatoes on their hook, there came from 
the rear of the store tent the most appalling suc- 
cession of squeals and screams the boy had ever 
heard. Springing to his feet, he dashed to the 
scene of the conflict — for such it seemed to be — 


176 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

though not without a heart that beat rather 
faster than usual. He had no idea what the 
creatures could be that were producing all the 
uproar, and for all he knew they might have 
been bears. 

Behind him came Walter, rather pale, but de- 
termined to do his best as a Boy Scout to fight 
off any wild beasts that might be attacking the 
camp. As he dashed behind the tent, however, 
Hiram was impelled to give a loud laugh. The 
contestants — for he had rightly judged they 
were in high dispute — were two small black 
pigs which had looted a bag of oatmeal from 
under the flap of the store tent and were busily 
engaged in fighting over their spoils. 

“Get out, you brutes ! Scat !” shouted the boy, 
bringing down a long-handled spoon he carried 
over the backs of the disputants. 

The spoon, being almost red-hot, the clamor 
of the porkers redoubled, and with indignant 
squeals and grumblings they dashed off into the 
dense growth of scrub oak and pine that covered 
the island in its interior. At the same moment 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


i77 

the captain, who had been taking a snooze under 
some small bushes, awoke with a start. 

“Eh — eh — eh! What’s all that?” he ex- 
claimed, hearing the yells. “Why, it’s that 
plagued Betsy and Jane, my two young sows,” 
he cried the next moment. “Consarn and keel- 
haul the critters, they’re breakin’ out all the 
time. I reckon they’re headed fer home now,” 
he added, when Hiram related how he had scared 
them. 

“I’m glad that they were nothing but pigs, 
captain,” said Hiram, going back with flushed 
cheeks to his cookery. “I was afraid for a min- 
ute they were — I hardly know what. We’ll have 
to fix that store tent more snugly in future.” 

“And I’ll have ter take a double reef in my pig 
pen,” chuckled the captain. 


178 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER XV. 
the: chums in pe:rit. 

Even the epicurean Tubby Hopkins voted din- 
ner that day a great success, and Hiram, with be- 
coming modesty, took his congratulations blush- 
ingly. In mid-afternoon, after seeing that the 
camp was in good working order, the scout 
masters started for the home shore in Captain 
Hudgins’s boat, which was also to bring back 
some additional supplies for the next day. 

After dinner Rob had assigned Merritt and 
Tubby to form a “fishing squad,” to range sea- 
ward in the Flying Fish and “halt and detain” 
all the bluefish they could apprehend. The 
others were given the afternoon to range the 
island and practice up their woodcraft and land- 
mark work, while Rob busied himself in his tent, 
which was equipped with a small folding camp 
table, in filling out his pink blank reports which 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


179 


were to be forwarded to Commodore Wingate 
and despatched by him to the headquarters of 
the Boy Scouts in New York. 

Merritt and Tubby were both ardent fisher- 
men, and in response to Hiram’s pleadings, they 
allowed him to accompany them on their expe- 
dition. The fish were running well, and the 
boys cast and pulled in some time without par- 
ticularly noticing how far out to sea they had 
gone. 

Suddenly the stout youth, who was fishing 
with an unusually heavy line and hook, felt a 
hard tug on his apparatus, so powerful a tweak, 
in fact, that it almost pulled him overboard. He 
tried to haul in, but the resistance on the other 
end of his line was so great that he was com- 
pelled to twist it about a cleat in order to avoid 
either letting go or being dragged into the sea. 

“What in the name of Sam Hill have you 
hooked ?” gasped Merritt, as the Flying Fidh 
began to move through the water faster than 
even her engine could propel her. 


i8o THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

“I’ve not the least idea/' remarked Tubby 
placidly, “but I rather think it must be a whale.” 

“Whale nothing!” exclaimed Merritt scorn- 
fully and with superior wisdom. “Whales sound, 
don't they?” 

“Well, there’s not been a sound out of this 
one so far,” truthfully observed Hiram. “What 
kind of a sound do they make, corporal?” 

“Oh, you chump,” responded Merritt good- 
naturedly, “you’ve lived by the sea all your life, 
and you don’t know how a whale sounds. Sound 
means when a whale blows, spouts, sends up a 
big fountain of water.” 

“Oh, I see,” responded Hiram, much enlight- 
ened. “But see here, Merritt, whatever we are 
fast to is beginning to pick up speed pretty rapid- 
ly. Don’t you think we’d better cut the line or 
try to haul in?” 

“Haul in! Not much!” exclaimed Tubby in- 
dignantly. “We’ll just hang on till we tire him 
out, that’s what we’ll do, and then haul in.” 

“But we’re getting a good way out from 
shore,” objected Hiram, who, however much at 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


181 


home he was at the key of a wireless apparatus, 
had no great relish for blue water in a small 
motor boat. 

“Don’t you worry, sonny,” put in Merritt pat- 
ronizingly. “We’ll be all right. My, that was a 
plunge !” 

As he spoke the bow of the Flying Fish dipped 
till she shipped a few gallons of green water. 

“I’ll pay out some more line,” said the unper- 
turbed Tubby. “I guess whatever we’re onto 
begins to believe that he has swallowed some- 
thing pretty indigestible.” 

Faster and faster the Flying Fish began to 
cut through the sea. The water sprayed out from 
both sides of her cutwater in a steady stream. 

“She’s doing as well as she did the day of the 
race,” said Merritt, with a laugh, gazing at 
Hiram’s rather pale face. The wireless youth 
was casting longing glances at the shore. 

“Well, I wish Mr. Whale, or whatever he is, 
would come up and let us have a look at him !” 
exclaimed Tubby suddenly. “This is getting- 
pretty monotonous.” 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


182 

As he spoke the boy paid out a little more line. 
He had only just time to belay it round the cleat 
to avoid its being jerked out of his hand, so fast 
was the creature they had hooked now traveling. 

“Say, Tubby,” spoke Merritt at length, “Fm 
beginning to think myself that it might not be 
a bad idea to put back. Those clouds over there 
on the horizon look as if they meant trouble.” 

“Oh, let’s keep it on a little while longer,” 
pleaded Tubby; “cutting through the water like 
this, without any expenditure of gasolene or 
power, is the real luxurious way of ocean travel- 
ing. It beats the Mauretania. Just think if 
liners could hitch a whole team of things like 
whatever has got hold of us to their bows ! Why, 
the Atlantic would be crossed in four days.” 

For some time longer the boat shot along over 
the waves, towed by its invisible force. The 
boys, with the exception of Tubby, began to get 
anxious. The shores of the mainland were dim 
in the distance behind them, and Topsail Island 
itself only showed as a dark blue dot. 

Suddenly the motion ceased. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 183 

“He’s free of the line!” shouted Hiram, in- 
wardly much relieved to think they had got rid 
of what to him was an alarming situation. 

“No, he’s not,” replied Tubby, bending over 
the line. “He’s still fast to us. The line’s as 
tight as a fiddle string.” 

He was standing up as he spoke, and as the 
Flying Fish gave a sudden, crazy jerk forward, 
he was almost thrown overboard. In fact, he 
would have toppled into the sea if Merritt had 
not bounded forward and grabbed the fleshy lad 
just as he was losing his balance. 

“We’re off again!” exclaimed Hiram, as the 
Flying Fish once more began to move through 
the water. 

But now the creature that had seized Tubby’s 
big hook started to move in circles. Round and 
round the Flying Fish was towed in dizzy swings 
that made the heads of her young occupants 
swim. 

“Start the engine on the reverse, and see if 
that will do any good,” said Tubby, bending 
anxiously over his line. 


184 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

Merritt brought the reverse gear to “neutral/’ 
and then started it up, gradually bringing back 
the lever governing the reversing wheel till the 
Flying Fish was going second speed astern, and 
finally at her full gait backward. 

The tug thus exercised seemed to have no ef- 
fect on the monster that had caught Tubby’s 
bait, however. With the exception that the speed 
was diminished a trifle, the Flying Fish was still 
powerless to shake off her opponent. 

Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, 
a huge, shiny, wet body shot out of the water 
almost directly in front of the amazed and 
startled boys, and settled back with a mighty 
splash that sent the spray flying in a salt-water 
shower bath over their heads. 

“Whatever was it?” gasped Hiram in awed 
tones. 

“A shark,” replied Merritt, “and a whopper, 
too. What are we going to do, Tubby — keep on 
or cut loose?” 

“Just a little longer,” pleaded the other. “He 
must be tiring by this time. If we can only 


THE EAGLE PATROL 185 

wear him out, we can tow him ashore and make 
a little money out of him. You know shark skin 
is valuable.” 

“Pd rather have a whole skin of my own,” 
quavered Hiram, who had been considerably 
alarmed by the momentary glimpse he had had 
of Tubby's quarry. 

“Pie's off again!” shouted Merritt, as the sea 
tiger started straight ahead once more. 

Suddenly the line slackened again. 

“Look out!” Tubby had just time to shriek 
the warning before a mighty shock threw them 
all off their feet in a heap on the bottom of the 
boat. 

“Zan-g-g-g !” 

The line twanged and snapped under the sud- 
den strain, and a great rush seaward showed the 
boys, as soon as they recovered their senses, that 
they had lost their shark. 

“And a good line,” moaned Tubby. 

“What are you kicking about?” demanded 
Merritt. “It's a lucky thing the beast didn't 
start some plank of the boat when it charged; 


1 86 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

but as far as I can see, the Flying Fish stood the 
shock all right.” 

“It felt like an earthquake,” murmured Hiram, 
whose face was white and eyes frightened. 

“Well, I suppose we’d better head for home,” 
said Tubby at length. “Those bluefish will go 
fine for supper.” 

“Spoken like a Tubby,” laughed Merritt. 

“All right, I’ll start up. Hullo ” he looked 

up with a puzzled face from the reverse lever. 
“I can’t get her on the forward speed.” 

“What’s the matter?” gasped Hiram. 

“I don’t know. Something’s stuck. Shut off 
that engine, will you, Tubby, while I see?” 

Tubby promptly shut down the motor, and 
Merritt struggled with the refractory lever. It 
was all in vain, however; he cpuld not get it on 
the forward speed. 

“I’ve got to investigate,” puffed the perspir- 
ing corporal; “something must be wrong with 
the reversible propeller.” 

“Well, whatever you are going to do, hurry 


THE EAGLE PATROL 187 

up about it,” spoke Tubby, with unwonted sharp- 
ness in his tones. 

“Why, what’s the ” began Merritt. 

Tubby checked him with a finger on his lips. 
“Don’t scare the kid,” he whispered, leaning 
forward, “but we’re in for a storm.” 

He pointed seaward. 

Rolling toward them was a spreading wall of 
heavy clouds traveling at seemingly great speed, 
while below the wrack the water darkened omi- 
nously and became flecked with “white horses.” 


1 88 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER XVI. 

LOST IN TH^ STORM. 

“The trouble’s in the reversible propeller. I 
always told Rob he was foolish not to have a 
regular reverse gear on the shaft itself and a 
solid wheel/’ said Merritt. 

“Well, never mind that now,” urged Tubby 
anxiously. “I’ll shift all the cushions and stuff 
up in the bow, and Hiram and I will get as far 
forward as we can. That will raise the stern 
and you can hang over and reach the wheel.” 

When the stout lad had done as he suggested 
there was quite a perceptible tilt forward to the 
Flying Fish , and Merritt, hanging over the stern, 
could feel about the propeller better. 

“Just as I thought,” he shouted presently. 
“That shark when he came astern fouled that 
heavy line on the propeller.” 

He got out his knife, and in a few minutes 
succeeded in cutting the entangling line free. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 189 

It was not any too soon. From far off there 
came a low sound, something like the moaning 
of a large animal in pain. It grew louder and 
closer, and with it came an advancing wall of 
water crested with white foam. The sky, too, 
grew black, and air filled with a sort of sulphur- 
ous smell. 

“It’s a thunder squall,” shouted Tubby, as 
Merritt shoved over the lever and started the 
engine. 

As he spoke there came a low growl of thunder 
and the sky was illumined with a livid glare. 

“Here she comes !” yelled Merritt ; “better get 
out those slickers or we’ll be soaked.” 

Tubby opened a locker and produced the yel- 
low waterproof coats. The boys had hardly 
thrust their arms into them before the big sea 
struck them. Thanks to Tubby’s steering, how- 
ever, the Flying Fish met it without shipping 
more than a few cupfuls of water. 

The next minute the full fury of the storm 
enveloped the Boy Scouts and the Flying Fish 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


190 

was laboring in a heaving wilderness of lashed 
and tumbling water. 

“Keep her head up!” roared Merritt, above 
the screaming of the wind and the now almost 
continuous roar and rattle of the thunder. It 
grew almost dark, so overcast was the sky, and 
under the sombre, driving cloud wrack the white 
wave crests gleamed like savage teeth. 

Hiram crouched on the bottom of the boat, 
too terrified to speak, while Tubby and Merritt 
strove desperately to keep the little craft from 
“broaching to,” in which case she would have 
shipped more water than would have been at 
all convenient, not to say safe. 

As if it were some vindictive live thing, 
seized with a sudden spite against the boat and 
its occupants, the storm roared about the dazed 
boys. 

The Flying Fish , however, rode the sweeping 
seas gallantly, breasting even the biggest comb- 
ers bravely and buoyantly. 

“It’s getting worse,” shouted Tubby, gazing 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


191 

back at Merritt, who was bending over the labor- 
ing motor. 

“Yes, you bet it is!” roared back the engineer; 
“and Pm afraid of a short circuit if this rain 
keeps up.” 

“Cover up the engine with that spare slicker,” 
suggested Tubby. 

“That's a good idea,” responded the other, 
rummaging in a stern locker and producing the 
garment in question. In another moment he had 
it over the engine, protecting the spark plugs 
and the high-tension wires from the rain and 
spray. But the wind was too high to permit of 
the covering remaining unfastened, and with a 
ball of marlin the young engineer lashed the im- 
provised motor cover firmly in place. 

Pliram, with a white face, now crawled up 
from the bottom of the boat. In addition to 
being scared, he was seasick from the eccentric 
motions of the storm-tossed craft. 

“Do you think we'll ever get ashore again?” 
he asked, crawling to Merritt's side. 

“Sure,” responded the corporal confidently. 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


192 

"Come on, buck up, Hiram! You know, a Boy 
Scout never says die. We’ll be back in camp in 
three hours’ time, when this squall blows itself 
out.” 

"I — I don’t want you to think me a coward, 
Merritt,” quavered Hiram, "but — but you know 
this is enough to scare any fellow.” 

Indeed, he seemed right. The Flying Fish ap- 
peared no more than a tiny chip on the immense 
rollers the storm had blown up. Time and again 
it looked as if she would never be able to climb 
the huge walls of green water that towered above 
her; but every time she did, and, as the storm 
raged on, the confidence of the boys began to 
grow. 

"She’ll ride it out, Tubby!” yelled Merritt, 
dousing the engine with more oil. 

"Sure she will !” yelled back Tubby, with a 
confidence that was, however, largely assumed. 
The stout youth had just been assailed by an 
alarming thought that flashed across his mind. 

"Would the gasolene hold out?” 

There was no opportunity on the plunging, 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


i93 

bucking craft to examine tKe tank, and all the 
boy could do was to make a rapid mental cal- 
culation, based on what he knew of the con- 
sumption of the engine. The tank, he knew, had 
been half full when they came out, and that, 
under ordinary conditions, would have sufficed 
to drive the Flying Fish for five or six hours. 

But they were not ordinary conditions under 
which she was now laboring. Tubby knew that 
Merritt was piling in every ounce of gasolene 
the carbureter could take care of. 

Suddenly, while the stout youth’s mind was 
busied with these thoughts, and without the 
slightest warning, there came a sort of wheezing 
gasp from the motor. 

Merritt leaned over it in alarm. He seized the 
timing lever and shoved it over and opened the 
gasolene cock full tilt. * 

But there was no response from the motor. 

It gasped out a cough a couple of times and 
turned over in a dying fashion for a few revo- 
lutions and then stopped dead; 


194 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


The boys were adrift in the teeth of the storm 
in a crippled boat. 

“What’s the matter?” roared back Tubby 
from the wheel. “She’s lost steerage way!” 

“Motor’s gone dead,” howled back Merritt 
laconically. 

“Great Scott, we are in for it now! What’s 
the matter?” 

“No gasolene,” yelled Merritt. 

“Sosh-osh-soh !” 

A huge green wave climbed on to the Flying 
Fish's bow, shaking her from stem to stern like 
a terrier shakes a rat. 

“We’ve got to do something quick, or we’ll be 
swamped!” roared Merritt. 

“The cockpit cover, quick!” shouted Tubby, 
steadying himself in the bucking craft by a tight 
grasp on the bulwarks. 

“That’s it. Now the oars. Hurry up. Here, 
you Hiram, grab that can and bail for all you’re 
worth !” 

The fat youth seemed transformed by the sud- 
den emergency into the most active of beings. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


i95 

“What are you going to do?” yelled Merritt, 
framing his mouth with his hands. 

“Make a spray hood. Come forward here and 
give me a hand.” 

With the oars the two boys made a sort of 
arched framework, secured with ropes, and over 
it spread the canvas cockpit cover, lashing it 
down to the forward and side cleats. This work 
was not unattended with danger and difficulty. 
Time and again as they worked the boys had to 
lie flat on their stomachs and hang on while the 
Flying Fish leaped a wave like a horse taking a 
barrier. At last, however, their task was com- 
pleted, and the improvised spray hood served to 
some extent to break the waves that now threat- 
ened momentarily to engulf the laboring craft. 

“Now to get out a sea anchor !” shouted the in- 
defatigable Tubby. 

He seized up an old bait tub, a boat hook and 
a “swabbing-out” broom, and lashed them all to- 
gether in a sort of bridle. Then he attached the 
Flying Fish's mooring cable to the contrivance 
and paid it out for a hundred feet or more, while 


196 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

the storm-battered craft drifted steadily back- 
ward. Instead, however, of lying beam on to the 
big seas, she now headed up into them, the 
“dra g,” as it is sometimes called, serving to keep 
her bow swung up to the threatening combers. 

“There, she’ll ride for a while, anyhow,” 
breathed Tubby, when this was done. 

“What’s to be done now?” shouted Merritt in 
his ear. 

“Nothing,” was the response; “we’ve got to 
lie here till this thing blows over.” 

“It’s breaking a little to the south now,” ex- 
claimed Merritt, pointing to where a rift began 
to appear in the solid cloud curtain. 

This was cheering news, and even the seasick 
but plucky Hiram, who had been bailing for all 
he was worth, despite his misery, began to 
cheer up. 

“Hurrah! I guess the worst of our troubles 
are over,” cried Tubby. “It certainly looks as 
if the sea was beginning to go down, and the 
wind has dropped, I’m sure.” 

That this was the case became apparent short- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


197 

ly. There was a noticeable decrease in the size 
and height of the waves and the wind abated in 
proportion. In half an hour after the rift had 
been first noticed by Merritt, the black squall had 
passed, and the late afternoon sun began to shine 
in a pallid way through the driving cloud masses. 

The lads, however, were still in a serious fix. 
They had been driven so far out to sea that the 
land was blotted out altogether. All about them 
was only the still heaving Atlantic. The sun, 
too, was westering fast, and it would not be long 
before darkness fell. 

Without gasolene and with no sail, they had no 
means of making land. Worse still, they were 
in the track of the in and out-bound steamers to 
and from New York — according to Tubby's reck- 
oning — and they had no lights. 

“Well, we seem to have got out of the frying- 
pan into the fire,” said Merritt in a troubled 
voice. “It's the last time I'll ever come out with- 
out lights and a mast and sail.'' 

“That's what they all say,” observed Tubby 
grimly. “The thing to do now is to get back to 


198 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

shore somehow. Maybe we can rig up a sail 
with the cockpit cover and the oars. We've got 
to try it, anyhow.” 

After hauling in the sea anchor, the lads set 
to work to rig up and lash the oars into an A 
shape. The canvas was lashed to each of the 
arms of the A, and the contrivance then set up 
and secured to the fore and aft cleats by the 
mooring line they had utilized for the sea anchor. 

''Well/' remarked Tubby, as he surveyed his 
handiwork with some satisfaction and pride, “we 
can go before the wind now, anyhow — even if 
we do look like a lost, strayed or stolen Chinese 
junk.” 

“Say, I'm so hungry I could eat one of those 
fish raw !” exclaimed Hiram, now quite recovered, 
as the Flying Fish , under her clumsy sail, began 
to stagger along in the direction in which Tubby 
believed the land lay, the wind fortunately being 
dead aft. 

“Great Scott, the kid's right !” exclaimed Mer- 
ritt. “We forgot all about eating in the storm, 


THE EAGLE PATROL 199 

but now I believe I could almost follow Hiram's 
lead and eat some of those fellows as they are." 

“Well, that's about all you'll get to eat for a 
long time," remarked Tubby, grimly casting an 
anxious eye aloft at the filling “sail." 


200 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER XVII. 

ALMOST RUN DOWN. 

It grew dark rapidly and the night fell on 
three lonely, wet, hungry boys, rolling along in a 
disabled boat under what was surely one of the 
queerest rigs ever devised. It answered its pur- 
pose, though, and under her “jury mast” the Fly- 
ing Fish actually made some headway through 
the water. 

None of the boys said much, and Tubby, under 
the cover of the darkness, tightened his capacious 
belt. It spoke volumes for his Boy Scout train- 
ing that, though he probably felt the pangs of 
hunger as much or even more keenly than the 
others, he made no complaint. Hiram, the sec- 
ond-class scout, complained a bit at first, but 
soon quieted down under Merritt’s stern looks; 
as for the latter, as corporal of the Eagle Patrol, 
it was his duty to try to keep as cheerful as pos- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 201 

sible ; which, under the circumstances, was about 
as hard a task as could well be imagined. 

The eyes of all three were kept strained ahead 
for some sign of a light, for they had been so 
tossed about in the squall that all sense of direc- 
tion had been lost, and they had no compass 
aboard, which in itself was a piece of careless- 
ness. 

Suddenly, after about an hour of “going it 
blind” in this fashion, young Hiram gave a shout. 

“A light, a light!” 

“Where?” demanded Tubby and Merritt 
sharply. 

“Off there,” cried the lad, pointing to the left, 
over the port side of the boat. 

Both the elder lads gazed sharply. 

“That's not the direction in which land would 
lie,” mused Tubby. 

“The light's pretty high up, too, isn't it?” sug- 
gested Merritt. “It might be a lighthouse. We 
may have been blown farther than we thought.” 

Tubby offered no opinion for a few seconds, 
but his ordinarily round and smiling face grew 


202 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

grave. A sudden apprehension had flashed into 
his mind. 

“Tell me, Merritt/' he said, “can you see any 
other lights?" 

“No," replied Merritt, after peering with half- 
closed eyes at the white light. 

“I can," suddenly shouted young Hiram. 

“You can?" 

“Yes; some distance below the white light I 
can see a green one to the right and a red one 
on the left." 

“Shades of Father Neptune!" groaned Tubby. 
“It's just as I thought, Merritt — that light yon- 
der is a steamer's mast lantern, and the fact 
that Hiram can see both her port and starboard 
lamps beneath shows that she's coming right for 
us." 

This was alarming enough. Without lanterns, 
without the means of making any noise sufficient- 
ly loud to attract the attention of those on the 
approaching vessel, the occupants of the Flying 
Fish were in about as serious a predicament as 
one could imagine. To make matters worse, the 


THE EAGLE PATROL 203 

wind began to drop and come in puffs which only 
urged the Flying Fish ahead slowly. Tubby made 
a rapid mental calculation, and decided that 
hardly anything short of a miracle could save 
them from being run down, unless the steamer 
saw them and changed her course. 

“Can’t we shout and make them hear us?” 
asked Hiram in an alarmed voice. He saw from 
the troubled faces of both the elder lads that 
something serious indeed was the matter. 

“We might try it,” responded Tubby, with a 
bitter shrug. “But it’s about as much use as a 
mouth organ in a symphony orchestra would be. 
Better get on the life belts.” 

With hands that trembled with the sense of 
impending disaster, the three boys strapped on 
the cork jackets. 

“Now all shout together,” said Merritt, when 
this was done. 

Standing erect, the three young castaways 
placed their hands funnelwise to their mouths 
and roared out together: 

“Ship ahoy! St-eam-er a-hoy!” 


204 THE boy scouts of 

They were alarmed and not ashamed to ad- 
mit it. 

"No good,” said Tubby, after they had roared 
themselves hoarse. "When she strikes us, jump 
over the starboard bow and dive as deep as you 
can. If you don’t, the propellers are liable to 
catch us.” 

It was a grim prospect, and no wonder the boys 
grew white and their faces strained as the im- 
pending peril bore down on them. 

They could now see that she was a large ves- 
sel — a liner, to judge from the rows of lighted 
portholes on her steep black sides. Her bow 
lights gleamed like the eyes of some monster in- 
tent on devouring the Flying Fish and her occu- 
pants. On and on she came. The air trembled 
with the vibration of her mighty engines, and a 
great white "bone” foamed up at her sharp prow. 

Not one of the boys spoke as the vessel came 
nearer and nearer, although it speedily grew 
evident that unless a wind sprang up or the look- 
out saw them, it was inevitable that they would 
be cut in two amidships. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


205 


“Remember what I said,” warned Tubby, in a 
strange, strained voice. “Dive deep and stay 
under as long as you can.” 

And now the great vessel seemed scarcely 
more than two or three boat lengths from the 
tiny cockleshell on which she was bearing down. 
As a matter of fact, though, her towering bulk 
made her appear much nearer than she actually 
was. 

“Can’t we do anything, Merritt?” gasped 
Hiram, with chattering teeth. “We might try 
shouting once more,” suggested Tubby in a voice 
that quivered in spite of his efforts to keep it 
steady. 

“All together now — come on!” 

“Ship ahoy! You’ll run us down! St-eam-er 
a-hoy !” 

Suddenly there were signs of confusion on the 
bow of the big vessel. Men could be seen run- 
ning about and waving their arms. 

“By hookey, they’ve seen us!” breathed Mer- 
ritt, hardly daring to believe it, however. 

The others were speechless with suspense. 


206 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


Suddenly from the bow of the oncoming 
steamer a great fan-shaped ray of dazzling light 
shot out and enveloped the boys and their boat 
in its bewildering radiance. 

‘‘Hard over, hard over!” the boys could hear 
the lookout roaring, and the command rang 
hoarsely back along the decks to the wheelhouse. 

Slowly, very slowly, as if reluctant to give up 
her prey, the bow of the mighty liner swung off, 
and the boys were safe. 

“Look out for the wash,” warned Merritt, as 
the great black bulk, pierced with hundreds of 
glowing portholes, ploughed regally by them, her 
deck crowded with curious passengers. A voice 
shouted down from the bridge: 

“What in blazing sea serpents are you doing 
out here in that marine oil stove?” 

The boys made no attempt to reply. They had 
all they could do to hang on, as the Flying Fish 
danced about like a drifting cork in the wash of 
the great vessel. They could see, however, that 
several of her passengers were clustered at her 
stern rail, gazing wonderingly down at them — 


the eagle patrol 


207 

in great perplexity, no doubt, as to what manner 
of craft it was that they had so narrowly es- 
caped sending to the bottom. For had the ves- 
sel even grazed the Flying Fish , the small boat 
would have been annihilated without those on 
board the liner even feeling a tremor. It would 
have been just such a tragedy as happens fre- 
quently to the fishing dories on the foggy New- 
foundland banks. 

"Wh-ew !” gasped Merritt, sinking down on a 
locker. "That was a narrow escape if you like 
it!” 

"I don't like it,” remarked Tubby sententiously, 
mopping his forehead, on which beads of cold 
perspiration had stood out while their destruc- 
tion had seemed inevitable. So thoroughly un- 
nerved were the lads, in fact, by their experience 
that it was some time before they could do any- 
thing more than sit limply on the lockers while the 
Flying Fish rolled aimlessly with an uncontrolled 
helm. 

"Come on,” said Tubby at length; "we've got 
to rouse ourselves. In the first place, Fve got an 


208 


THE BOY SCOUTS OE 


idea,” he went on briskly. “Fve been thinking 
over that gasolene stoppage, and the more I think 
of it the more I am inclined to believe that there’s 
something queer about it. It’s worth looking 
into, anyhow. ” 

“You mean you think there may be some fuel 
in the tank, after all?” asked Merritt, look- 
ing up. 

“It’s possible. Have you tried the little valve 
forward of the carbureter?” 

“Why, no,” rejoined Merritt; “but I hardly 
think ” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time a carbureter had 
fouled, particularly after what we went through 
in that squall,” remarked Tubby. “It’s worth 
trying, anyhow.” 

He bent over the valve he had referred to, 
which was in the gasolene feed pipe, just for- 
ward of the carbureter, and placed there primar- 
ily for draining the tank when it was necessary. 

“Look here !” he yelled, with a sudden shout of 
excitement. “No,” he cried the next moment, 
“I don’t want to waste it — but when I opened 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


209 

the valve a stream of gasolene came out. There's 
plenty of it. That stoppage is in the carbureter. 
Oh, what a bunch of idiots we've been !" 

“Better sound the tank," suggested Merritt; 
“what came out of the valve might just be an 
accumulation in the pipe." 

“Not much," rejoined the other, “it came out 
with too much force for that, I tell you. It was 
flowing from the tank, all right." 

“We'll soon find out," proclaimed Merritt. 
“Give me the sounding stick out of that locker, 
Hiram." 

Armed with the stick, Merritt rapidly un- 
screwed the cap of the fuel tank and plunged the 
sounder into it. 

“There's quite a lot of gasolene in there yet," 
he exclaimed, with sparkling eyes, as he with- 
drew and felt the wet end of the instrument. 

The carbureter was rapidly adjusted. The 
rough tossing about the Flying Fish had received 
had jammed the needle valve, but that was all. 
Presently all was in readiness to get under way 
once more with the little boat’s proper motive 


210 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


power. The “jury rig” was speedily dismantled, 
Merritt swung the flywheel over two or three 
times, and a welcome “chug, chug!” responded. 

“Hurray ! she’s working,” cried Hiram. 

“As well as ever,” responded Merritt. “Now 
for the shore. By the way,” he broke off in a 
dismayed tone, “where is the shore?” 

“I know now,” rejoined Tubby in a confident 
tone. “Off there to the right. You see, that 
steamer was hugging the coast preparatory to 
heading seaward — at least, I’m pretty sure she 
was, and that would put the shore on her port 
side, or on our starboard.” 

They chugged off in the direction Tubby indi- 
cated, and before long a joyful cry from Hiram 
announced the sudden appearance of lights. 

“Wha’t are they?” asked Merritt. 

“Don’t know — they look like bonfires,” re- 
joined the other lad. “I wonder if we have been 
lucky enough to pick up Topsail Island?” 

As they drew nearer the lads soon saw that 
it was the island that they were approaching, 
and that the lights they had seen were camp 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


21 1 


fires ignited by order of the anxious young Patrol 
leader to guide them back. 

In a short time they had anchored the Flying 
Fish opposite the camp, and jumped into the 
dinghy left at her moorings when they embarked. 

“A fine scare you’ve given us ,” cried Rob, as 
they landed and flung down their afternoon’s 
catch. “We were afraid for a time that you 
were lost in that black squall — it blew two of our. 
tents down, and we were mighty anxious about 
you, I can tell you.” 

“You did not alarm our folks?” asked Hiram 
anxiously. 

“No, I thought that it would be best to wait. 
Somehow, I thought you’d turn up safe. Where 
on earth have you been and what has happened? 
You look as pale as three ghosts.” 

“Towed to sea by a shark — caught in a squall 
— almost run down by a liner — and so hungry 
we can’t talk now.” sputtered out Tubby com- 
prehensively. 

“All right; come on up to the fire and get 
dried out and pitch into the grub.” 


212 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


After such a meal as it may be imagined the 
young scouts indulged in, they told their whole 
yarn of their adventures to the listening Patrol. 
A short time after they concluded — so long had 
it taken to relate everything and answer all ques- 
tions — the mournful call of “Taps” sounded and 
it was time to turn in. Little Digby alone, who 
was to do sentry service, remained on duty. 

Merritt’s dreams were a strange jumble. It 
seemed to him that he was being towed to sea 
on the back of a huge shark, by a big liner with 
a row of blazing portholes that winked at him 
like facetious eyes. Suddenly, just as it seemed 
he was about to slip off the marine monster’s 
slippery back, he thought he heard a loud cry of 
“Help, scouts!” 

So vivid was the dream and so real the cry 
that he awoke trembling, and listened intently, 
peering out through the tent flap. 

There was no sound, however, but the ripple 
of the waves on the beach and the “hoot hoot” 
of an owl somewhere back in the woods on the 


island. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


213 

“Funny,” mused the boy, as he turned over 
and dozed off again, “that certainly sounded 
loud enough to have been a real, sure-enough 
call for help.” 


214 


THE BOY, SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER XVIII. 
joe; digby missing. 

“Merritt! Merritt, wake up!” 

The boy sleepily opened his eyes and saw 
bending over him the pale features of Rob, whose 
voice quivered with suppressed excitement as he 
shook the other's shoulder. 

“I didn't hear reveille blow yet. What's up? 
Have I overslept?” murmured the young cor- 
poral. 

“No, it's not six-thirty yet — barely after half- 
past four, in fact. But young Digby — he had 
the night watch, you know — and was to have 
been relieved at three o'clock. Well, Ernest 
Thompson, his relief, roused out at that hour, 
but not a trace of Digby was to be found !” 

“What!” The sleepy boy was drowsy no 
longer. “Digby gone ?” 

“Hush ! W e don’t know yet. Don't wake any 


the EAGLE PATROL 215 

of the others. Thompson and I have skirmished 
around ever since it began to get light, and we 
have not been able to find a trace of him.” 

Merritt was out of his cot while his leader 
was still speaking, and ten minutes later, during 
which time the boys exchanged excited questions 
and answers, he was in his uniform and outside 
the tent. 

The sun was just poking his rim above the 
western horizon and the chilly damp of early 
dawn lay over the island. The sea, as calm al- 
most as a lake, lay sullen and gray, scarcely 
heaving. Behind the sleeping camp a few shreds 
of mist — the ghosts of the vapors of the night — 
were arising like smoke among the dim trees. At 
the further end of the assemblage of tents, and 
beyond the smouldering fire, stood a silent figure, 
that of Ernest Thompson. 

“Have you explored the island thoroughly ?” 
asked Merritt under his breath. Somehow the 
dim hour and the situation seemed to preclude the 
idea of loud talking. 

“Of course not. Not yet,” breathed the other 


216 the BOY SCOUTS OF 

in the same tones. “We will break the news to 
the rest of the Patrol after breakfast. IPs no 
use alarming them yet.” 

“It isn't possible that he went off on an early 
fishing expedition?” 

For answer, Rob waved his hand toward the 
water, where the Flying Fish lay rocking gently 
at her anchor. Ashore the dinghy lay as Mer- 
ritt and his companions had left it the night 
before. 

“But what can have happened to him?” burst 
out Merritt, as they made their way over to 
Ernest Thompson's side. 

“I cannot think. It is absolutely mystifying. 
I am going to start for the captain’s place now. 
He may be able to throw some light on the af- 
fair.” 

Merritt shook his head. 

“Hardly likely. If there is no trace of Joe 
Digby on this side of the island, it is improbable 
that Captain Hudgins knows anything about 
him.” 

“Well,” rejoined Rob in a troubled voice, 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


217 

“we've got to try everything. I am responsible 
for his safe keeping while he is in camp. I 
blame myself for allowing the kid to go on sentry 
duty at all." 

“No use doing that," comforted Merritt; 
“there’s one thing sure, he can’t have melted 
away. He must be somewhere on the island. 
There are no wild beasts or anything like that 
here to carry him off, so if we keep up the search 
we must come upon him sooner or later." 

“That’s what makes the whole affair the more 
mystifying," rejoined Rob. “What can have be- 
come of him ?’’ 

“Well, if he’s on the island, we’ll find him," he 
continued ; “and if he isn’t " 

“We’ll find him anyway," declared Merritt in 
a determined voice. 

“That’s the stuff !’’ warmly exclaimed the other. 
“And now I’m going to take a cruise round to 
the other side of the island, and see if I can find 
out anything there." 

A few seconds later he was in the dinghy and 


2 18 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


sculling out over the water to the speedy Flying 
Fish. In a short time he was off. 

As the “chug chug” of the motor grew fainter, 
Merritt turned to young Thompson. 

“Don't breathe a word of this to the others 
till we know for certain that Digby has van- 
ished,” he said. 

The other boy nodded. 

“I understand,” he said, and the look with 
which he accompanied the words rendered Mer- 
ritt perfectly confident that he would be obeyed. 

“And now let's rouse out Andy Bowles and 
get him busy with that tin horn of his,” cheer- 
fully went on Merritt, walking toward Andy's 
tent. 

That youth was much surprised to find that it 
was morning, but tumbled out of his cot in 
double-quick time, and soon the cheerful notes 
of reveille were ringing out over the camp, on 
which the sun's rays were now streaming down 
in that luminary's cheerful morning way. 

The soldier who immortalized himself by set- 
ting the words: “We can’t get 'em up, We can't 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


219 


get ’em up, We can’t get ’em up in the morning; 
We can’t get ’em up, We can’t get ’em up, We 
can’t get ’em up at a-a-1-11 !” to the stirring notes 
of the army’s morning call had never been in a 
camp of Boy Scouts. If he had he wouldn’t 
have written them, for before the last notes had 
died away the camp was alive and astir, with' 
hurrying lads filling tin washbasins and clean- 
ing up. 

The cook and “cookee” for the day — Sim Jef- 
fords and Martin Green — soon had their cooking 
fire going, and presently the appetizing aroma of 
coffee and fried ham and eggs filled the camp. 

“Give the breakfast call, Andy,” ordered Mer- 
ritt, as the proud if flush-faced cooks announced 
their labors complete, and with a clatter and 
bang of tin dishes and cups the Boy Scouts sat 
down to breakfast. 

'Where’s Rob and Digby?” demanded Andy 
Bowles, as he dug his spoon into an island of 
oatmeal completely surrounded by an ocean of 
condensed milk thinned down with warm water. 


220 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

The moment that Merritt had dreaded had 
arrived. 

a Why, he and Rob went off early to see the 
captain/’ he said. “I guess they’ll be back 
soon.” 

“Pretty early for paying social calls,” com- 
mented Andy, too busy with his breakfast, how- 
ever, to give the matter more attention, for which 
Merritt was duly thankful. 

After breakfast Merritt ordered a general air- 
ing of bedding, and the side walls of the tents 
were raised to let the fresh air blow through 
them. Still there was no sign of Rob. Merritt 
grew so anxious that he could hardly keep from 
pacing up and down to conceal his nervous state 
of mind. However, he stuck to his duties and 
oversaw the first routine of the morning with- 
out betraying his anxiety to any of the lads under 
his charge. At last there came the awaited chug- 
chug of the returning boat, for which he had 
been so eagerly listening, and Rob appeared 
rounding the little point below the camp. In the 


THE EAGLE PATROL 221 

craft was another figure, that of the captain 
himself. 

Merritt's first hope when he saw the two per- 
sons in the boat — namely, that one of them might 
be the missing boy — was promptly dashed, and 
he instinctively guessed by Rob's silence as he 
dropped the anchor and he and the captain 
tumbled into the dinghy that there had been no 
news. 

“No," said Rob, shaking his head dejectedly 
as they reached the shore, “there isn't anything 
to tell. The captain is as much in the dark as 
we." 

“Well, you'd better have some breakfast," said 
Merritt, after he and the captain had exchanged 
greetings, “then we can go ahead and notify the 
others and institute a thorough search." 

“That's the stuff, my boy," agreed the veteran. 
“Overhaul ship from bilge ter royals, and if not 
found, then take a cruise in search uv." 

Rob ate his meal with small appetite, but the 
captain, urging on his young companion the ne- 
cessity of “filling his hold," devoured prodigious 


222 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


quantities of food, and then, arising, suggested 
that the time had come to “pipe all hands aft and 
read orders." 

The boys had been so busy about their morn- 
ing tasks that fortunately none of them, except 
Tubby, whom Merritt had told of the disappear- 
ance, had found time to notice Rob's return or 
ask questions; so that when he announced to 
them that Joe Digby was missing it came as a 
stunning shock. 

“Now, boys," said Rob, after he had com- 
municated the full details, so far as he knew 
them, of the circumstances of the disappearance, 
“there is only one thing to do, and that is turn 
this island inside out. It won't take long, but. I 
want it done thoroughly. Don't leave a stone un- 
turned. If after a painstaking search we find 
nothing on the island, we'll know we have to look 
elsewhere. You are all fairly good woodsmen 
by this time, and can trail by signs as effectively 
as first-class scouts. Use your eyes, and good 
luck." 

Merritt at once assigned searching parties, he 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


223 

and Rob and Tubby taking the center of the 
island and the others being detailed to search 
along the shores in two separate squads for any 
trace of their missing comrade. 

“Call me a lubber if this ain’t the most mysti- 
fyin’ thing I’ve run my bow into since the Two 
Janes, uv Boston, brig, lost her bearings in a 
fog and fetched up off Iceland,” declared the 
captain, who had elected to accompany the three 
leaders of the Patrol. “But drown or swim, sail 
or sink, we’ll find that kid if he’s on deck.” 

The searching parties construed this speech as 
a sort of valedictory to them — as, indeed, the 
captain intended it — and greeted it with a cheer. 

“The first scout that finds a trace of Joe is to 
light the four 'smokes,’ meaning come to coun- 
cil,” was Rob’s last order. “Light them on as 
prominent a place as you can find, and we will 
all meet in camp to hear the news.” 

The searching parties at once separated, one 
striking off to the right, the other to the left and 
the three young leaders and their grizzled friend 
making a dead set for the center of the island. 


224 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


If Joe Digby was to be found, the look of de- 
termination on the face of each scout showed 
that it would not be the fault of his young com- 
rades if he were not. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


225 


CHAPTER XIX. 

SAM REBELS. 

In the meantime on a small island in the 
Upper Inlet a strange conference was taking 
place. Three youths whom our readers will rec- 
ognize as Jack Curtiss, Bill Bender and Sam Red- 
ding, were in earnest consultation with the un- 
kempt and unsavory individual whom we know as 
Hank Handcraft, the beach-comber. 

“Well, the job’s put through, all right,” Hank 
was saying, as the three sat outside a small tent 
in front of which was a smouldering fire, about 
which the remnants of a meal were scattered. 

“Yes, but now we’ve got to tackle the hardest 
part of it,” said Jack, knitting his brows. “I’ve 
got the letter written and here it is.” As he 
spoke he drew from his pocket a sheet of paper. 
“The question is who to send for the money 
when the time comes.” 


226 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

“Oh, Hank is the man,” said Ben, without an 
instant's hesitation. “We must not appear in 
this at all.” 

“Oh, I am the man, am I ?” put in Hank, with 
no very gratified inflexion in his voice; “and 
what if I am caught? I'm to go to prison, I sup- 
pose, while you fellows get off scot-free.” 

“As for me,” said Sam Redding, who was pale 
and looked scared, and whose eyes, too, were 
red-rimmed and heavy as if from lack of sleep, 
“you can count me out. I want nothing to do 
with it. You've gone too far, Jack, in your 
schemes against the boys. I'm through with the 
whole thing.” 

“Well, if you're that chicken-hearted, we don't 
want you in it at all,” sneered Jack, although he 
looked somewhat troubled at his follower’s de- 
fection. “All we want you to promise is not to 
split on us.” 

“Oh, I won't peach,” promised Sam readily. 

“It will be better for you not to,” warned Bill 
Bender ; “and now let's figure this thing out, and 
quickly, too. We haven't got any too much time. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


227 


They’ll have discovered the kid has gone by this 
time and the alarm will be spread broadcast.” 

“I thought, when he yelled like that last night, 
we were goners sure,” remarked Jack, scowling 
at the recollection. ‘It’s a good thing those kids 
sleep as hard as they do, or we’d have been in a 
tight fix.” 

"Oh, well, no good going back to that now,” 
dissented Bill. "How was the young cub when 
you left him, Hank?” he asked abruptly. 

"Oh, he’d got through crying, and was lying 
nice and quiet on his bunk,” remarked Hank, 
with an amiable chuckle, as though he had just 
performed some praiseworthy act, instead of 
having left little Joe Digby locked in a deserted 
bungalow on an island some little distance from 
the one on which the conversation related above 
was taking place. 

"Well, that’s good,” said Bill; "although cry- 
ing, or yelling, either, won’t do him much good 
on that island. He could yell for a week and 
no one would hear him.” 

"No; the water’s too shallow for any motor 


228 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


boats to get up there/' agreed Hank. “I had a 
hard job getting through the channel in the row- 
boat, even at high water." 

“Is the house good and tight?" was Jack's 
next question. 

“Tight — tight as the Tombs," was Hank's an- 
swer, the simile being an apt one for him to use. 
“The door has that big bolt on the outside that 
I put on, besides the lock, of which I carried 
away the key, and the shutters are all nailed up. 
No danger of his getting away till we want him 
to." 

“Couldn't be better," grinned Jack approving- 
ly. “Now, here's the letter. Tell me what you 
think of it?" 

Opening the sheet of paper, the bully read 
aloud as follows: 

“Mr. and Mrs. Digby: Your son is safe and 
in good hands. I alone know where the men 
who stole him have taken him. But I am a poor 
man, and think that the information should be 
worth something to you. Suppose you place two 
hundred dollars under the signpost at the Mon- 
tauk crossroads to-night. I will call and get it 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


22 9 


if you will mark the spot at which you place it 
with a rock. Look under the same rock in the 
morning and you will find directions how to get 
your boy back. Captain Nemo.” 

“What do you think of that?” inquired Jack 
complacently, as he concluded the reading of his 
epistle. 

“A bee-yoo-tiful piece of composition ” said 
Hank approvingly, with one of his throaty 
chuckles; “the only thing is — who is Captain 
Nemo?” 

“Why, so far as delivering the letter and get- 
ting the money is concerned, you are,” said Jack 
decisively. “Eh, Bill?” 

“Oh, by all means,” assented Bill. 

Sam was not included in the conversation, and 
gazed sullenly straight in front of him as he lay 
where he had thrown himself on the fine white 
sand. 

“Oh, by no means,” echoed Hank derisively. 
“Say, what do you fellows take me for, the late 
lamented Mr. Easy Mark? If you do you have 
another think coming.” 


2 3 o THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

“Now look here, Hank,” argued Jack, “what’s 
the objection? All you’ve got to do is to take 
this note ashore, give it to some boy to deliver, 
and then go to the crossroads at whatever time 
to-night you see fit and get the money.” 

“Of course,” Bill hastened to put in, “you’ve 
got to bring it to us for proper division.” 

“Oh, I have, have I ?” chuckled Hank. “Well, 
what do you think of that? I’m to do all the 
work and you fellows are to get the bacon! 
That’s a fine idea — not ! Four into two hundred 
doesn’t go very many times, you know.” 

“Not four,” corrected Jack, “three. Sam is out 
of this. He’s too much of a coward to have "any- 
thing to do with it,’ ” he added, mimicking Sam’s 
tone. 

The boat-builder’s son reddened, but said noth- 
ing in reply to the bully’s taunt. 

""Well, three, then,” went on Hank; ""that’s not 
percentage enough for me. If I’m to have any- 
thing to do with this here job, I want half the 
money. You fellows can split the rest between 
you.” 


231 


THE EAGLE PATROL 

Jack and Bill exchanged blank looks. 

“Now, look here, Hank, be reasonable,” began 
Jack in a tone meant to be conciliatory. 

“Now, look here, Jack, be sensible,” echoed 
Hank mockingly. “You seem to forget that you 
owe me something for the job we did on those 
uniforms the other night, and that other little 
errand you performed on the island. You’ve got 
a very convenient memory, you have. Why, I 
daresay those kids would have given me a nice 
little wad of tobacco money to have told just who 
took their Sunday-go-to-meeting suits, but did I 
peach? No, you know I didn’t; but,” he added, 
with rising emphasis, “if I don’t get what’s com- 
ing to me pretty soon, I will.” 

“Well, you idiot,” began Jack truculently; 
“haven’t you got your chance now?” 

“If I choose to take it — yes,” was the re- 
joinder; “but I don’t know as I will. It seems 
to me I hold all the trumps and you are at my 
mercy.” 

“Why, you insolent dog!” bellowed Jack, ris- 
ing to his feet from the position in which he had 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


232 

been squatting. “For two cents Fd knock your 
bewhiskered head off!” 

He advanced threateningly, but Bill, seeing 
the turn matters were taking, and realizing that 
more was to be gained by peaceful methods, in- 
tervened. 

“Now, Jack, shut up. Stow that nonsense,” 
he ordered sharply. “Look here, Hank, we’ll ac- 
cept your terms. Half to you if you carry it out 
successfully.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

“Then we’ll all have to shift for ourselves. 
This part of the country will be too hot to hold 
us. I mean to go out West. I’ve got a cousin who 
has a ranch, and I think I could get along all 
right there if the worst comes to the worst.” 

“See here, I don’t agree with your way of 
dividing the money,” began Jack, an angry light 
in his eyes. “I ” 

“Look here, Jack,” cut in Bill sharply, “if you 
don’t like it, it doesn’t do you any good. If you 
object to it, keep out. Hank and I form a ma- 
jority. You chump!” he added quickly, under 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


233 

his breath, as Hank turned away and began to 
“skip” flat stones over the water, “don’t you see 
he takes all the responsibility? It’s a cinch for 
us to get away if anything goes wrong.” 

“Yes, it’s a cinch we get cheated out of our 
share of the money,” argued Jack, with an angry 
glare in the direction of the unconscious Hank. 

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” argued Bill. 
“You know, as well as I do, that if we are im- 
plicated in this affair it means serious trouble. 
Our parents wouldn’t stand for it, and we should 
be disgraced. By doing it this way we get some 
of the proceeds — I admit not our fair share — 
but what’s to be done ?” 

“Well, X guess you are right, Bill,” assented 
Jack, with a shrug. “It’s go ahead now; we’ve 
gone too far to draw back.” 

“That’s the line of talk,” grinned Bill, “and 
when we’ve each got fifty dollars in our pockets, 
silenced Hank with a golden gag and had our 
revenge on those kids, we’ll be able to talk over 
future plans. I’m sick of school. I hate the idea 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


234 

of going back there. I’ve half a mind to strike 
out for the West anyway.” 

“Do you think I could get a job on your 
cousin’s ranch?” asked Jack. 

“I don’t doubt it a bit,” rejoined Bill. “You’re 
a good, husky chap, and brawn and muscle is 
what they need in the West.” 

“Yes, I’m husky, all right,” conceded Jack 
modestly. “Sometimes I think that I don’t get 
full opportunities to expand here in this wretched 
country hole.” 

“No, the West is the place,” agreed Bill, with 
an inward smile, “as the newspapers say — 'one 
can expand with the country’ out there.” 

Their conversation was broken in upon by 
Sam, who demanded in no very gentle tones: 

“Well, who’s going ashore? I’m off.” 

“No hurry, Sam,” said Jack in a more amiable 
tone than he had yet used that morning. “Let’s 
sit around here a while and enjoy the sun — we 
might take a swim after a while.” 

“If you don’t come now you’ll have to swim 
ashore,” grunted Sam, arising and brushing the 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


235 


sand from himself. “I’mgoing back to Hamp- 
ton. Pm tired of camping out here. ,, 

He walked toward the beach and prepared to 
shove off the dinghy, preparatory to sculling out 
to the hydroplane, which lay a few rods off 
shore in the channel. 

‘‘Hold on, Sam,” cried Bill; “we’re coming. 
Don’t go away sore.” 

“I’m not sore,” rejoined Sam, in a tone which 
belied his words, “but I don’t think you fellows 
are doing the right thing when you maroon a 
kid like Joe Digby on a lone island, in a deserted 
bungalow in which you’d be scared to stop your- 
selves.” 

“Why, what’s got into you, Sam?” protested 
Jack. “It’s more a lark than anything else.” 

“Fine lark,” grunted Sam, “scaring a kid half 
to death and then writing notes for money. It’s 
dangerously near to kidnapping — that’s what I 
call it, and I’m glad I’m not in it.” 

Both the others looked rather uncomfortable 
at this presentation of the matter, but Jack af- 
fected to laugh it off. 


236 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

“Pshaw !” he exclaimed, “it's a little bit rough, 
I know, but such things do a kid good. Teach 
him to be self-reliant — and — and all that.” 

“Sure,” agreed Bill, “you don’t look at these 
things in the right light, Sam — does he, Hank ?” 

Hank, who had shuffled toward the dinghy at 
the conclusion of these edifying remarks, agreed 
with a chuckle that Sam had no sense of humor, 
with which they all got into the dinghy and were 
sculled off to the unlucky hydroplane. 

It didn’t take long to get under way, and the 
little craft was soon scudding through the water 
at a good pace, towing the dinghy behind her. 

“Better put us ashore before we get into 
Hampton,” suggested Bill. “We don’t want to 
be seen about there more than can be helped.” 

“That’s where you are wrong,” objected Jack. 
“We’ll put Hank ashore up the coast, but the 
more we are seen about the place the better. It 
won’t look as if we had anything to do with the 
Digby kid — in case things do go wrong.” 

So it was agreed that Hank was to be landed 
in a small cove a few miles farther down the 


THE EAGLE PATROL 237 

coast, from which it was a short cut across coun- 
try to the neighborhood of the Digby farm. 
Then he was to waylay the first likely-looking 
messenger and entrust the note which Jack had 
read to him for delivery. After that he was to 
spend the time as best he could in suitable seclu- 
sion, and after dark conceal himself near the 
sign-post. He was not to make any attempt to 
secure the money if any one hovered about the 
place, but if the coast was clear he was to go 
boldly in and take it. 

Hank was landed at the spot agreed upon, a 
short time later, and the other three then re- 
sumed their journey for the hydroplane’s home 
port. As they turned seaward Jack pointed 
mockingly to Topsail Island, which lay a short 
distance on their port bow. 

‘Til bet there’s plenty going on there right 
now,” he grinned. 

“Right you are,” assented Bill. 

“Hullo,” he added hastily the next moment; 
“what’s that?” 

He pointed toward the island, and the occu- 


238 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

pants of the homing hydroplane saw, slowly ris- 
ing from it in the still air, four straight columns 
of blue smoke. 

“Looks like a signal of some kind,” suggested 
Jack after a scrutiny. 

“It’s coming from about the place where we 
grabbed the kid,” added Bill, a note of appre- 
hension in his voice. 

“I wonder what it signifies?” demanded Jack, 
whose face began to bear a somewhat troubled 
look. 

“I can tell you,” said Sam shortly, turning 
round from the wheel. 

“You can?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, hurry up, then — what does it mean?” 
Jack spoke sharply at Sam’s deliberation. 

“It means,” said Sam slowly, as if he wanted 
every word to sink in, “that the Boy Scouts have 
picked up your trail.” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


239 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE HUNT TOR TENDERFOOT JOE- 

Rob, Merritt, Tubby Hopkins and Captain 
Hudgins rested, perspiring under the noon-day 
heat, on a group of flat rocks at the highest point 
of the island. Their search had been fruitless, 
and their downcast faces showed it. 

“How ever are we going to break the news to 
his parents ?” 

Merritt it was who voiced the question that 
had been troubling all of them. 

Before any one had time to frame a reply the 
captain, whose keen eyes had been gazing about 
him, gave a sudden shout : 

“There’s that smoke yonder yer boys were 
lookin’ fer,” he exclaimed, pointing. 

“Four columns of it,” shouted Rob, “hurray, 
boys, that means news! It’s 'Come to counsel.’ 
Come on, don’t let’s lose any time in getting 
back.” 


240 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


Rapidly the boys stumbled and ran forward 
over the rocks and pushed on among the dense 
growth that covered the hillside they had climbed. 
They hardly noticed the obstacles, however, so 
keenly were they bent on getting back to camp 
and learning the news which they knew must be 
awaiting them. They covered the distance in 
half the time it had taken them to ascend the 
hillside and were met in the camp by the body of 
searchers — Andy Bowles, Sim Jeffords and 
Ernest Thompson — who had swung off to the 
left or mainland side of the island. 

“Well, boys, what news?” breathlessly ex- 
claimed Rob, “we saw the 'counsel smoke’ and 
hurried down at top speed.” 

“Well, there’s not very much, I’m afraid, 
Rob,” began Andy, “but we found something 
that may give us a clue. About half a mile down 
the beach there’s the distinct mark of a boat keel 
where it was drawn up on the hard sand and the 
marks of three separate pairs of feet.” 

“Good,” exclaimed Rob, “that’s something and 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


241 

half confirms my suspicion. Go on, Andy, what 
else? ,, 

“Well, we examined the marks carefully and 
found that two pairs of feet wore good shoes 
and the third a very broken, disreputable pair.” 

“Yes,” exclaimed Rob, while the others list- 
ened breathlessly. 

“Of course that indicated to us that three per- 
sons must have carried Joe off — for I don’t think 
there’s much doubt now that he was carried off, 
do you?” 

“I don’t,” said Rob sadly, “but for what possi- 
ble motive?” 

“I have it,” suddenly exclaimed Tubby Hop- 
kins, snapping his fingers, “you remember the 
day of the aeroplane model contest?” 

“Yes, but what ” began Rob. 

“Has that to do with it,” finished Tubby for 
him. “Everything. It was Joe who first told the 
committee that Jack’s model was a bought one 
and so lost him the fifty-dollar prize.” 

“By cracky, that’s right!” assented Rob, “and 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


•242 

you think that Jack and his gang have carried 
him off in revenge for it?” 

“Looks that way to me,” nodded the stout 
youth. 

“Why, they wouldn't dare,” began Andy 
Bowles. 

“Oh, yes, they would,” amended Rob bitterly, 
“they'd dare anything to get even on us for their 
fancied wrongs. But whose could have been the 
broken ragged shoes ?” he asked, suddenly taking 
up another train of thought. 

“Hank Handcrafts, the beach-comber's,” sug- 
gested Tubby. 

“Gee Whillikens! I'll bet a cracker that's the 
solution,” cried Andy, “and now I come to think 
of it I heard, before we left, that Jack and his 
gang had gone camping.” 

“Where?” 

“Up around the Upper Inlet somewhere. You 
know that's full of islands and as there's no 
drinking water there few people ever think of 
frequenting the place. If they wanted to do any- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


243 

thing like carrying off Joe that is where they 
would have been likely to go/' 

“You may be right, Andy. It’s worth looking 
into, anyway,” declared Rob. “Pll leave a note 
here for the others and we'll take a run over 
there in the Flying Fish. If Joe is there we'll 
get him out.” 

“And in jig time, too,” chimed in Ernest 
Thompson. 

“Come on, boys, get some gasolene, hop in the 
dinghy and let's get aboard. We've got to move 
fast if we're to accomplish anything. You get 
the boat, Andy, while I write a line to tell the 
others what we've gone after.” 

The young leader hastily ran into his tent and 
sitting down at the table dashed off these lines : 

“Boys, we think we have a clue to Joe's where- 
abouts. Have gone after him. Keep camp in 
regular way while we are gone. Hiram Nelson 
is leader, and Paul Perkins corporal, in our ab- 
sence. Rob Beake, Leader, 

Eagle Patrol, B. S. of A.” 

With a piece of chalk the boy marked a rough 
square and an arrow on a tree — the arrow point- 


244 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

in g to a spot in the sand in which he buried the 

letter. 

“Now, then, come on,” he shouted, dashing 
toward the boat, “shove off, boys, and if Joe’s in 
the Upper Inlet we’ll find him.” 

“Hurray,” cheered the others, much h iartened 
by the prospect of any trace of the missing boy, 
however slight. 

“Give way, boys,” bellowed the captain, who 
had insisted on coming along armed with a huge 
horse pistol of ancient pattern which he had 
strapped on himself in the morning when the 
news of Joe Digby’s disappearance reached him. 
“This reminds me uv the time when I was A. B. 
on the Bonnie Bess and we smoked out a fine 
mess of pirates in the Caribees.” 

“Regular pirates?” inquired Andy as Rob and 
Merritt bent to the oars. 

“Reg’lar piratical pirates, my boy,” responded 
the old salt, “we decorated the trees with ’em and 
they looked a lot handsomer there than they did 
a-sailin’ the blue main.” 

Further reminiscences of the captain’s were 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


245 

cut short by their arrival at the Flying Fish's 
side. They had hastily thrown two cases of gaso- 
lene into the dinghy before they shoved off so 
that all that remained to be done was to fill the 
fast craft's tank and she was ready to be off. 

“Hold' on,” warned Rob, as Tubby Hopkins 
was about to secure the dinghy to the mooring 
buoy, “we'll tow her along. We may need her. 
There's lots of shoal water in that Upper Inlet.” 

“Right yer are, my boy; there's nothin' like 
bein' forehanded,” remarked the captain as Mer- 
ritt bent over the flywheel and Rob threw in the 
spark and turned on the gasolene. After a few 
revolutions an explosion resulted and the Flying 
Fish was off on the mission which might mean 
so much or so little to the anxious hearts on 
board her. 

“Do you know the channel,” asked Merritt 
as Rob with his eyes glued on the coast sent the 
Flying Fish through the waves, or rather wave- 
lets, for the sea was almost like a sheet of glass. 

“I've been up here once or twice after duck,” 
rejoined Rob, “but it's a tricky sort of a place 


246 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

to get through. However, I guess we'll make 
it." 

As they drew nearer the shores the boys made 
out an opening which Rob said was the Upper 
Inlet channel. 

“Say, Tubby, get out the lead line and let's 
see how much water we have," directed Rob as 
the color of the ocean began to change from dark 
blue to a sort of greenish tinge, lightening in 
spots, where the shoals were near to the surface, 
to a sandy yellow. 

The stout lad took a position in the bow and 
swinging the lead about his head cast it suddenly 
ahead of the Flying Fish's bow. 

“Slow down," ordered Rob, and Merritt cut 
down the motor to not more than two hundred 
revolutions a minute. 

The lead line, tagged with different colored 
bits of flannel at each fathom length, sang 
through the stout lad's fingers. 

“By-a-quarter-three," he called out the next in- 
stant. 

This meant that three fathoms and a quarter 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


247 

or eighteen feet three inches of water was under 
the keel of the little craft. 

“ ’Nough fer a man-uv-war,” grinned old Cap- 
tain Hodgins. 

Slowly the Flying Fish forged ahead till right 
under her bow lay a patch of the yellow water. 

“By-a-half-two,” came a sharp hail from the 
fat youth, who had once more heaved the lead. 

“Cut her down some more,” sharply ordered 
Rob, without turning his head, “we draw only 
three feet so I guess we’ll do nicely for a while.” 

“Great hop-toads, there’s regular shark’s teeth 
ahead,” commented Captain Hudgins, pointing 
to the still shallower water indicated by the light- 
ening tint of the channel. 

“By-one-by-a-quarter-one !” came sharply from 
Tubby, as the Flying Fish seemed hardly to 
crawl along the water. 

“By-a-half!” came an instant later, meaning 
that only three feet of water lay right ahead. 

“Stop her,” roared out Rob. 

But he was too late. Instantly, almost as Mer- 
ritt’s hand had flown to the lever, the nose of the 


24 8 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

Flying Fish poked into the sandbank and her 
motor with a gentle sigh came to a stop. 

“Hard a-ground !” roared the captain, “too bad 
and with a failin' tide, too.” 

“Full speed astern,” came the next order. 

The propeller churned up the water aft into a 
white turmoil. The Flying Fish trembled in her 
every timber, and began to slide slowly backward 
from the treacherous shoal. 

“Safe, by the great horn spoon!” roared the 
captain, fetching Andy Bowles a slap on the 
back that almost toppled the small bugler into 
the water. 

“For a time,” said Rob quietly, “come ahead a 
bit, Merritt.” 

Slowly the little vessel slid ahead once more. 
Rob seemed fairly to feel his way through the 
narrow channel he had picked out and finally the 
Flying Fish , after as much coaxing as is usually 
bestowed on a balky horse, floated in the deep 
water beyond the sandy bar. 

Eagerly the boys looked about them as they 
“opened up,” as sailors call it, the narrow stretch 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


249 

of water known as the Upper Inlet. It did not 
take them long to spy the island with the tent on 
it in which the conversation between Jack and 
his cronies, and the mutineer to his plans, had 
taken place. 

‘'There’s their camp!” shouted Rob, eagerly 
sending the Flying Fish ahead at full speed, “now 
we’ll find out something.” 

“And, maybe, use this.” The captain, as he 
spoke, grimly produced his formidable weapon 
and flourished it about. 

“No, none of that,” sternly rejoined Rob, “the 
Boy Scouts can take care of those fellows without 
using firearms.” 

“You bet,” rejoined Merritt, grimly “musling 
up,” “we’ll show ’em if it comes to a fight.” 

But bitter disappointment awaited the boys. 
As we know, the camp was deserted and no trace 
or clue of the whereabouts of its occupants was 
to be found. In the tent, however, lay a piece 
of blotting paper with ink-marks on it. It was 
the material with which Jack had dried his letter. 

“Anybody got a mirror?” asked Rob. “This 


250 ( THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

blotter may help some if we can read what’s on 
it.” 

“I’ve got a pocket one,” said Andy Bowles, 
who was somewhat particular about his person 
and always carried a small toilet case. 

"That will do; let’s have it.” 

Rob seized the bit of looking glass and held the 
blotter to it. 

"Just as I thought,” he exclaimed a minute 
later, with a cry of triumph. "It’s Jack Curtiss’s 
writing, though he has tried to disguise it, and 
they’ve got Joe hidden somewhere. Look here, 
they want $200 for his return.” 

"Yes, but what good does it do us to know 
that,” objected Merritt, when the sensation this 
announcement caused had subsided. "They evi- 
dently had him here overnight and then deserted 
the camp for fear we’d pick up their trail. 
They’ve taken Joe with them.” 

"By the great sea-serpent, that’s right,” 
grunted the captain, "it’s a blind trail, boys!” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


251 


CHAPTER XXL 

SAVED BY "SMOKE MORSE.” 

Each member of the party regarded the other 
blankly. 

The captain was right. The deserted camp 
was only a blind trail and they had all their work 
to do over again. 

"The first people to communicate with are 
Joe’s parents/’ mused Rob. "That note will be 
delivered very shortly, as the longer they delay 
the more dangerous it will be for them.” 

"That’s right,” agreed Merritt, "Jack and his 
gang will not let the grass grow under their 
feet now that they know the chase must be on. 
What can they have done with Joe?” 

Rob had been looking about him with the in- 
stinct of the Boy Scout. He was anxious to 
ascertain if there were not something tangible — 
some clue on which they could base a search for 


'252 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


the missing member of the Patrol. Suddenly 
something remarkable struck him about the 
tracks that lay about the tent. 

They were all four those of persons of larger 
growth than Joe Digby and mingling with them 
unmistakably was the broken-shoed track of 
Hank, the beach-comber. 

“Boys,” announced Rob suddenly, “Joe has not 
been here at all.” 

“Not been here at all,” echoed Merritt 
amazedly. 

“I mean what I say. Look at these tracks. 
There is not a footmark here that could by any 
chance be his.” 

The others scrutinized the maze of foot-prints 
with the same care as had Rob and were forced 
to come to the same conclusion. There was no 
question about it — they would have to seek else- 
where for a trace of the lad. 

But where? 

They gazed about them at the stretch of lonely 
bay or inlet, the sparse scrub grass and stunted 
vegetation fringing it on the shore side and the 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


253 

wheeling sea-gulls swooping and soaring above 
the shoal waters. 

Then Rob's gaze rested carelessly on a closed 
and seemingly deserted bungalow, occupying the 
island above them. As his eyes fell on it they 
suddenly became riveted and then grew wide with 
surprise. 

A stream of smoke was issuing from the field- 
stone chimney roughly constructed at one end of 
the apparently deserted dwelling. 

“There’s some one living in that bungalow,” 
he exclaimed, as he made the discovery, “maybe 
whoever it is can give us some clue to where Joe 
Digby is.” 

They all gazed intently at the weather-beaten 
old house from which the paint was scaling, add- 
ing to the note of desertion sounded by its closed 
shutters and forlorn-looking yard. 

As they looked, astonished at the idea that the 
barren structure should actually house a human 
being, a sudden thought struck Merritt. 

“Suppose Jack Curtiss and his gang are 
there?” he said. 


254 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

“Hardly likely, ” rejoined Rob, “however, we'll 
get over there and find out just who is making 
that smoke.” 

Suddenly the old captain, who had been watch- 
ing the smoke closely, gave an astonished snort. 

“What's the matter, captain?” asked Rob, who 
was about to walk to the water's edge and get 
ready to shove off the dinghy. 

“Why, there's somethin’ queer about that thar 
smoke,” responded the old salt. 

“Queer — how do you mean?” 

“Well, watch it a minute — there — see! now it 
stops — now it starts ag’in — then it stops — what 
do yer suppose is happenin' to it?” 

Rob knitted his brows and watched the phe- 
nomenon to which the captain had called atten- 
tion with narrowed eyes. 

There was no question about it, the smoke was 
certainly behaving “queerly” as the captain put 
it. 

The blue vapor emerged from the chimney 
now in a copious puff and then, for a space, it 
would cease, only to roll forth once more in larger 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


255 

volume. The boys watched it in some astonish- 
ment. 

“What can they be doing, do you suppose?” 
Merritt asked. 

“I have no idea. IPs past me to say,” re- 
sponded Rob, “it comes out in puffs like — like — 
by hookey! Pve got it!” he broke off with a 
shout, “like the Morse code!” 

“Somebody signalling?” stammered Merritt. 

“That's it — watch!” 

The smoke, which had not been visible for some 
seconds, now emerged from the stone chimney 
once more and the boys, fascinated, watched it 
closely with burning eyes. There was no doubt 
whatever about it now. It was signalling. 

Four short puffs. 

“Four dots — that’s H,” exclaimed Rob, trem- 
bling with excitement. 

The smoke ceased. 

“Here comes some more,” shouted Merritt. 

One short puff from the chimney. 

“E, one dot, that's E sure enough,” translated 
Rob. 


256 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

The others stood like figures carved in stone 
as their leader read off the strange signals. 

Puff! A longer period of smoking by the 
chimney — then two sharp puffs. 

“That’s L,” interpreted the leader of the 
Eagles. Before they could say a word the chim- 
ney took up its message once more. 

Puff — a long puff — another long one, and 
then a short one. 

“Dot — dash — dash — dot,” exclaimed Rob. 

“That’s the letter P,” put in Merritt. 

“That’s right, old man,” shouted Rob, slapping 
him on the back, “and we’ve found Joe Digby. 
That smoke signal spelled Help in the Morse 
code.” 

“You’re right,” shouted Merritt, “come on, 
Cap, come on, boys, we’ve got to get a move on 
and get it on quick!” 

They dashed toward the dinghy and a few 
seconds later had once more embarked and were 
speeding toward the desolate and forsaken bung- 
alow. Somehow they managed to get ashore in 
the dinghy without anJ r one being spilled overside 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


257 

in their desperate hurry and a minute later were 
pounding at the door. 

“J oe — J oe Digby,” shouted Rob in a strange, 
strained voice. 

“Here,” came back the answer in a feeble tone, 
“oh, boys, Pm glad you've come.” 

Furiously Rob shook the door. 

“It's locked,” came the voice from inside, “I 
tried to break it down. Too weak, I guess. Try 
the shutters.” 

At each window in turn the Boy Scouts sought 
to effect an entrance, but in vain. The owner of 
the place had screwed up the window coverings 
too tightly for them to be opened without tools. 

The rescue party came to a momentary halt. 

“I've got it,” shouted the captain suddenly, 
“we'll have him out uv there in two shakes uv a 
drake's tail. 1 ' 

He produced his formidable old pistol and 
waved it grimly. 

“Come on, boys,” he yelled, darting round to 
the front of the house — the side on which the 
door was. 


258 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

“What are you going to do?” demanded Rob, 
as much mystified as the rest at the old man’s 
eccentric actions. 

Watch me,” grinned the captain as they 
gained the door. 

“Stand clear !” he bawled at the top of his 
lungs, “stand clear uv the door inside there, Joe.” 

“All right,” came back the reply, “I’m in a 
corner.” 

“Now, stand by ter receive boarders !” roared 
the veteran as he placed the muzzle of his aged 
weapon at the lock and pulled the trigger. 

“Bang!” 

There was a roaring explosion from the wide- 
mouthed weapon and a cloud of smoke filled the 
air. But simultaneously there came a sound of 
ripping, tearing and splintering and the lock of 
the door, shot clean out of the panel by the heavy 
charge, clattered down to the floor on the inside 
of the room. 

An instant later Joe Digby, pale and trembling 
from privation, surprise and happiness all min- 


THE EAGLE PATROL 259 

gled in one, was in the midst of his friends and 
fellow scouts. 

“I don’t know what made me think of it,” he 
explained in answer to eager questions about the 
smoke telegraph message. “It was what the 
books call an inspiration, I guess. There were 
plenty of loose boards — fragments of old pack- 
ing cases lying about, and luckily they had not 
taken my matches. I built a blaze and then, 
while it was still smouldering, I covered it with an 
old strip of sacking that I wetted with some 
water out of the bottle they left me.” 

“It made about as good a signal, as one could 
want,” responded Rob warmly, “but now tell us 
about your capture, Joe, how did it happen?” 

“Why, you see,” exclaimed the lad, his voice 
growing stronger as he proceeded, “I was just 
thinking it was about time to wake my relief 
when I heard a rustling noise in the bushes back 
of the camp. I walked up there to investigate, 
for I thought it might be some animals — maybe 
the captain’s pigs.” 


'260 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

“Keel haul them lubberly swine,” from the 
captain. 

“But, as you shall hear, I was mistaken. 
Hardly had I reached the edge of the dark shad- 
ows than I was seized and a hand put over my 
mouth. I had only time to let out one yell for 
help.” 

“The one that woke me,” put in Merritt, in 
parenthesis. 

“That was it, I guess,” went on the small lad, 
“well, I was picked up and carried some little 
distance to where they had a boat, and thrown 
into it. Then the three men who were in the 
boat rowed to an island with a tent on it and 
there two of them got out. The other, a fellow 
with a big beard and very dirty, then rowed over 
to this place with me and, after putting some 
bread and a bottle of water inside the door, closed 
and locked it. 

“I carried on like a baby, I guess. I cried for 
a long time and shouted, but no one came. Then 
I grew quieter and tried to find some way of 
escape but the shutters were all fastened and the 


f 


THE EAGLE PATROL 261 

door was too strong for me. I tried to clamber 
up the chimney once but I had to give it up. Then 
suddenly the thought of making a smoke came to 
me and then I improved on that idea and used 
the Morse code that Rob has been drumming into 
me. I never thought that I might be able to use 
it to save my life maybe — or at least a lot of 
hunger and misery/’ 

“Could you recognize the men who took you 
if you saw them again?” asked Rob earnestly. 

“I’m not sure,” responded the small lad, “one 
of them I would know — the one with the beard. 
The other two wore masks. But I think their 
voices sounded like Bill’s and Jack’s. I’m sure of 
the man with the beard though.” 

“Hank Handcraft,” exclaimed Merritt. 

“Oh, that’s who it was,” cried the small lad, “I 
thought somehow the voice and something about 
the man seemed familiar. He’s that old beach- 
comber who lives outside Hampton.” 

“That’s the son uv a sea-swab,” roared the 
captain, “oh, if I couH only get my hands on 
him, I’d ” 


262 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

The fate the captain had reserved for Hank 
was doomed not to be known, for as he was 
speaking Paul Perkins gave a sudden shout: 

“Look — look there !” he cried, pointing. 

Sneaking up to the tented island was the fa- 
miliar outline of Sam Redding’s hydroplane. 


/ 


THE EAGLE PATROL 263 


CHAPTER XXII. 
the: escape of the BUEEY. 

The group standing about the newly rescued 
lad on the verandah of the deserted bungalow 
galvanized into instant action. 

“Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender are in her!” 
shouted Rob, “come on, scouts, we'll get after 
them while we can.” 

With a shout the Boy Scouts ran for the boat 
and speedily pulled out to the Flying Fish. Plast- 
ily as they executed this move, however, the two 
in the other boat had had time to head her about 
and start at top speed for the mouth of the inlet. 

“Clap on more sail, my hearties,” roared the 
captain, almost beside himself with excitement, 
“I want ter get my hands on them two piratical 
craft.” 

Rob, with a look of grim determination on 
his usually pleasant face, held the Flying Fish 


264 THE boy scouts of 

true on her course, but, heavily laden as she was, 
she could not make her usual speed and the hy- 
droplane soon distanced her. Jack Curtiss stood 
in her stern and waved a mocking hand at the 
Boy Scouts as the light-draft craft shot over the 
shoals and shallows with ease while the Flying 
Fish had to lose much time and way by threading 
in and out seeking the deeper water. 

“Douse my toplights, I can’t stand that,” bel- 
lowed the irate Captain Hudgins. ‘Til put a shot 
in that jackanapes’ locker.” 

With these words, and before any of the boys 
could stop him, he rose to his feet and sent a 
bullet from his ponderous revolver flying in the 
direction of the fleeing motor boat. It missed 
and hit the water near by, sending up a little 
fountain of spray. 

Even at the distance they were the occupants 
of the Flying Fish could see the fear which this 
warlike move inspired in the bully and his com- 
panion. They threw themselves flat in their boat 
till only the hands of Bill, who was steering, were 
visible. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 265 

They need not have feared, however. The 
captain’s hasty move brought down on his head 
Rob’s wrath, though the young leader could not 
find it in his heart to be really angry with the old 
man who had been irritated past endurance by 
the bully’s mocking defiance. 

“Shiver my garboard strake,” he exclaimed 
contritely, when Rob pointed out to him that he 
might have killed one of the occupants of the 
hydroplane, “shiver my garboard strake, lad, I 
saw red fer a minute just like I did that time 
the Chinese pirates boarded the Sarah Jane Butts 
in the Yellow River.” 

Although there was not much hope of catching 
the two, Rob stuck to the chase even when he 
realized the scouts were outdistanced, and in fact 
kept his attention so closely riveted on the other 
craft that when there came a sudden jar and jolt 
and the Flying Fish stopped with a grunt and a 
wheeze, he realized with a start that he had not 
been watching the treacherous channel and was 
once more fast on a sand bar. 

With a last shout and a yell of defiance the 


266 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


bully and his companion, who had by now got 
over their fright, shot out on to the ocean and 
rapidly vanished. 

“There goes our hope of catching those two 
crooks,” cried Tubby angrily, while the en- 
gine of the Flying Fish was set at reverse. “It's 
all off now. They know that we have rescued 
Joe and they’ll fly the coop for some other part 
of the country.” 

“I suppose they came down here to get their 
tent, not realizing we’d be here so soon,” ob- 
served Andy, which indeed was the fact. 

Fortunately the Flying Fish was not very hard 
aground and a little manipulation got her off 
into deep water once more. 

“I guess those two chaps are almost in Hamp- 
ton by this time and getting ready to leave town,” 
observed Rob as the motor boat forged ahead 
once more. 

“This will be the safest thing for them to do,” 
exclaimed Merritt, “they are in a serious posi- 
tion this time. Kidnapping is a dire offense.” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 267 

“I wonder what they came back for?” said 
Tubby suddenly. 

“No doubt to get their tent and the few things 
they had left on the island,” vouchsafed Rob, 
skillfully dodging a shoal as he spoke, “maybe, 
too, they intended to see how Joe was making 
out.” 

“I wasn’t making out at all,” said the small 
lad, with a shudder at the recollection of his im- 
prisonment. 

“Never mind, Joe, that’s all over now,” put in 
Merritt. 

“I’m glad it is,” answered the small lad, “and 
just think, if I hadn’t been a Boy Scout and un- 
derstood that code I might have been there yet.” 

“That’s true enough,” said Rob, “for we had 
about made up our minds that the bungalow was 
deserted, and were not going to bother investi- 
gating it, till we saw the smoke.” 

About an hour later the boys landed once more 
in camp, where their reception by the others may 
be well imagined by my young readers. 

“And now comes the final chapter in the career 


268 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

of Messrs. Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender,” said 
Rob decisively, ‘Tm going to take a run up to 
Hampton. Joe, you’ll come along, and you, Mer- 
ritt, and Tubby. If that letter was delivered, 
as I imagine it was, Joe’s parents must be in a 
terrible state of anxiety by now and we must 
hurry up and see them at once.” 

“Right,” agreed Merritt, and a few moments 
later, having left the captain and the others 
ashore, the Boy Scouts and their young leader 
were speeding toward Hampton. With the craft 
lightened as she was, they made good time and 
arrived at the yacht club pier speedily. 

News of the events which had transpired at 
the island had evidently reached the town, for 
Mr. Wingate himself, with Mr. Blake and Mer- 
ritt’s father were at the landing as the Flying 
Fish glided up to it. 

The three elders were almost as enthusiastic 
as the boys had been over the safe recovery of 
Joe, the details attendant on which Rob rapidly 
sketched to them. He had hardly concluded and 
had not had time to ask how they knew of the 


THE EAGLE PATROL 269 

kidnapping when a wild-eyed man in faded old 
farm clothes, accompanied by an equally dis- 
tracted woman, came rushing down to the wharf. 

“Where’s them Boy Scouts? I allers knew no 
good would come of my son j’inin’ ’em,” the man 
shouted. “I’ll give a hundred dollars fer a boat 
that’ll take me ter Topsail Island in ten minutes.” 

“No need of that, Mr. Digby,” said Rob 
quietly stepping forward with his hand on Joe’s 
shoulder, “here is Joe safe and sound.” 

“Great hopping watermelons !” yelled the 
farmer, rushing at his son followed by his wife. 
Together the worthy souls almost squashed the 
small lad like a butterfly under a harrow. But 
at last the first greetings were over and the 
farmer turned to the somewhat amused group 
of boys and men who were looking on. 

“My, what a fright we had,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Digby, a motherly-looking woman, dabbing at her 
eyes with a capacious pocket handkerchief, “we 
gets a letter tellin’ us that our boy be kidnapped.” 

“Yes, we know all about that, Mrs. Digby,” 
put in Mr. Blake, “you recollect your husband 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


270 

telephoned to the chief of police here about it, 
and expecting news from the island, we came 
down here.” 

“So he did, so he did,” cried Mrs. Digby, “oh, 
dear me, Mr. Blake, I'm in such a takin! I 
hardly know what Pm sayin'.” 

“Consarn them Boy Scouts,” sputtered the 
farmer, returning to his original grievance, “if 
Joe hadn't a joined them none of this would have 
happened.” 

“Oh, yes it would and worse in fact,” said Mr. 
Blake quietly, “from what I have learned of the 
affair it was your lad's knowledge of the Morse 
code, which every Boy Scout must know, that 
saved him when he was confined on the island.” 

“That's right, pop,” piped up the lad himself. 

“Wall, I don't know nothin' about Horses' 
codes,” grunted Mr. Digby, somewhat mollified, 
“but if it saved Joe here it must be all right.” 

“Then your animosity toward the Boy Scouts 
is somewhat modified,” smiled Mr. Blake, “let 
me tell you just what happened. As a matter of 
fact the whole trouble dates back to the day your 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


2/1 


son exposed the contemptible trick by which Jack 
Curtiss hoped to win the aeroplane model prize 
contest. ,, 

The banker drew the farmer aside and related 
to him the story that had been previously nar- 
rated by Rob. 

“I want ter shake yer hand, boy,” exclaimed 
the farmer, darting at Rob at the conclusion, “I 
want ter shake all yer hands,” he yelled in his 
enthusiasm. 

“Bless my soul,” exclaimed Commodore Win- 
gate suddenly, “we are clean forgetting about 
those two young rascals who tried to extort the 
money from Mr. Digby. We must get after them 
at once and their accomplice who, I suppose, is 
the man delegated to take the money from under 
the rock.” 

“What do you suggest?” asked Mr. Blake. 

“That we hasten to the office of the chief of 
police and then get into my car and ferret them 
out if possible,” said the commodore briskly, 
“they must be made to suffer for this.” 

“I don't believe that Sam Redding had any 


2/2 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


hand in it,” put in Rob as Merritt mentioned 
the name of the boat-builder’s son. “You know 
that all our investigation only pointed to two 
persons, Jack and Bill, and their assistant, Hank 
Handcraft.” . 

A short time later Merritt, Tubby and the 
Digbys being left behind on the landing, a high- 
powered car, containing Rob, his father, Com- 
modore Wingate and the chief of police of 
Hampton shot out on to the road leading to the 
farm owned by Jack Curtiss’s father. Inquiry 
at the Bender home had already developed the 
fact that Jack and Bill had left there hurriedly 
a short time before, saying they were going out 
to the Curtiss place. The party was doomed to 
disappointment, however, so far as the hope of 
catching Jack or his accomplices at the farm was 
concerned. Old Mr. Curtiss informed them that 
his son had taken the family buggy and driven 
furiously off down the road with Bill Bender a 
short time before. 

“He got a hundred dollars from me,” 
explained the old man simply, “he told me he 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


273 

was goin' ter invest it in some rich mining stock 
his friend Bender had promoted but — what's the 
matter, gentlemen," he broke off, noticing the 
half-pitying look on the faces of the men in the 
automobile. Mr. Blake hurriedly explained the 
attempted extortion of which Jack had been 
guilty. 

“What, Jack — my son !" exclaimed the old 
man in half daze at the stunning intelligence, 
“my boy Jack do a thing like that? Why, it can't 
be true. I don't believe it." 

“I'm afraid, nevertheless, it is," rejoined Mr. 
Blake, but the old man only shook his head. 

“I'll not believe it," he kept repeating. 

“I wish that so good a father had a worthy 
son," remarked Mr. Blake as the car shot out 
of the farm and out upon the highroad in the 
hope of overtaking the buggy. 

At the Digby farm the machine was turned 
off to take the cross roads and at this spot they 
encountered a buggy coming toward them driven 
by a farmer friend of Mr. Blake's. 

“Seen a rig with Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


274 

in it ?” shouted the banker as the car was slowed 
up by Commodore Wingate. 

“Da-own the road a piece driving like the mis- 
chief,” responded the rustic pointing back with 
his whip, “but you’re wrong ’bout ther’ bein’ only 
two of them; that no-good beach-comber, Hank 
Handcraft, was in ther rig with them.” 

With a shouted word of thanks the car dashed 
forward once more. It was evident that, realiz- 
ing that their game was up, Jack and Bill had 
picked up Hank, and, with a sense of loyalty for 
which Rob certainly would not have given them 
credit, were trying to save him too. 

“Where can they be headed for?” wondered 
Mr. Blake as the car dashed forward. 

“I can hazard a guess,” exclaimed Commodore 
Wingate, “for the Sunnyside railroad station. 
If they make a train they may escape us yet.” 

“Je-rus-a-lem,” exclaimed the chief of police, a 
man named Applegate, pulling out a huge old- 
fashioned silver watch, “there’s a train due in a 
few minutes now ; if we don’t make it, they’ll slip 
through our fingers!” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


275 

Faster and faster the car roared forward and 
suddenly as it shot round a curve the little station 
of Sunnyside came in sight. Tied outside it was 
the buggy and horse of farmer Curtiss and on 
the platform stood three figures that the party 
in the auto made out at once as Jack Curtiss, 
Bill Bender and their unsavory ally. 

The road took a long curve at this point and 
while they could see the station the pursuers had 
the mortification of knowing that it would be 
some minutes before they could reach it. As the 
car bounded forward, swaying like a rocking 
ship over the rough roads, there came a sudden 
sound that made Rob’s heart bound. 

The long whistle of an approaching train. 

Faster the machine shot onward roaring like 
a battery of machine guns going into action. Its 
occupants leaned forward with eyes glued on the 
group on the platform. 

The trio of whom the autoists were in pursuit 
had by this time realized that they were the ob- 
jects of the chase and were nervously staring up 


276 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

the track down which was fast approaching the 
train by which they hoped to escape. 

The auto was still a good two hundred yards 
from the station when the train rolled in and, 
hardly stopping, started to move out again. 

“Stop! stop!” yelled Chief Applegate, at the 
top of his lungs, and the others waved their hands 
frantically. 

The engineer looked back at them with a grin. 

“Some more idiots missed their train, Jim,” 
he remarked to the fireman, “I might have waited 
for them but we’re five minutes behind schedule 
time now.” 

The fireman nodded understanding^ and as 
the auto, in a cloud of dust, dashed up to the 
little depot the train, with a screech that sounded 
like the last defiance of the bully, shot round a 
curve and vanished with a cloud of black smoke. 

“Beaten !” gasped the chief. 

“We can telegraph ahead and have them ar- 
rested in New York,” suggested Rob. 

“No, perhaps it is all for the best,” counselled 
Mr. Blake, “the parents of both those boys are 



The train rolled in and, hardly stopping, started to 
move out again. 




THE EAGLE PATROL 


277 

respected citizens, and it would be a cruel griev- 
ance to them were their boys to be publicly dis- 
graced. Let them work out their own salva- 
tion/’ 

And so Jack Curtiss, Bill Bender and Hank 
Handcraft vanish for a time from the ken of the 
Boy Scouts, leaving behind them no regrets, ex- 
cept it be those of their parents who were for 
many months bowed down with the grief and 
humiliation of their boys’ misdoings. 


278 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

SCOUTS IN NEED ARE FRIENDS INDEED. 

“Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta ! Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta ! Ta-ra-ta-ra- 
ta ! Ta-ra-ta-a-a!” 

Andy’s bugle briskly announced the last morn- 
ing of the Boy Scouts’ camp on Topsail Island. 
Already the first breath of autumn had begun to 
tint the leaves of the earlier fading trees, and the 
chill of the early dawn was noticeable. 

During their stay in camp the lads had profited 
in every way. The scout programme as sent out 
for camps by headquarters had been gone 
through with some modifications, and Sim Jef- 
fords had qualified as a first-class scout while 
Martin Green, Walter Lonsdale and Joe Digby, 
once more as merry as ever, were all fitted for 
their second-class scout diplomas. The prospect 
of another patrol in Hampton had been discussed 
and the outlook for one seemed favorable. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


279 

As the last notes of Andy's call — to turn to 
the subject of the opening of this chapter — rang 
out the tousle-headed, sleepy-eyed scouts ap- 
peared from their tents and found themselves en- 
veloped in a fleecy mist — such a light fog as is 
common on that part of the Atlantic coast at this 
season of the year. 

“Pretty thick!" was Rob's comment as he 
doused his face in his tin basin. 

“Hull-o-o-o!" suddenly hailed a voice from 
the water, “got any breakfast fer an old ship-, 
mate?" 

Through the fog the boys could make out the 
dim outline of the captain's motor boat even if 
it's apoplectic cough had not already told them 
it was there. 

“Sure, come ashore," hailed Merritt. 

A few moments later the hearty old seaman 
was sitting down with the lads and performing 
miracles of eating. 

“It's a good thing we haven't all got your ca- 
pacity," remarked Rob, laughing, “or that pro- 
vision tent wouldn't have held out very long." 


28 o 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


“Wall, boys,” observed the captain, drawing 
out a black pipe and ramming some equally black 
tobacco into it with a horny thumb, “a full hold 
makes fair sailin’, that’s my motto and ‘Be Pre- 
pared’ is yers. A man can be no better pre- 
pared than with a good meal under his belt. Give 
me a well-fed crew and I’ll navigate a raft to 
Hindustan, but a pack uv slab-sided lime juicers 
couldn’t work a full-rigged ship uv the finest 
from here to Ban-gor.” 

Having delivered himself of this bit of phil- 
osophy the captain passed on to another subject. 

“Hear’n anything uv them varmints that 
slipped their moorings on the train?” he asked. 

“We heard that they had gone West,” rejoined 
Merritt, “but to just what part I don’t know.” 

“That thar Sam Reddin’ boy clar’d himself uv 
all suspicion, did he?” went on the old man. 

“Yes, after he had admitted that Jack Curtiss 
and Bill Bender and himself stole our uniforms 
and robbed you ” 

“Consarn him,” interrupted the captain. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 281 

“You needn't grumble, his father paid you back 
all that was taken," observed Merritt. 

“That don't lessen the crime," grunted the 
captain, “heave ahead with yer yarn, my boy; 
yer was sayin’ that that Reddin' boy admitted 
everythin'." 

“Well," continued Rob, “in consideration of 
his confession, it was agreed not to prosecute 
him and he seems to be a reformed character. 
He absolutely denied, though, having had any- 
thing to do with the kidnapping of Joe Digby 
here, and I believe he is telling the truth." 

“The truth ain't in any uv them fellers, that's 
my belief," snorted the captain, “and if ever I 
get my hands on that thar Jack Curtiss or Bill 
Bender I’ll lay onto 'em with a rope's end." 

“Oh, we'll never see them again," laughed 
Rob. 

It may be said here, however, that in this he 
was very much mistaken. Rob and his friends 
did meet the bully again and under strange cir- 
cumstances, in scenes far removed from the 
peaceful surroundings of Hampton. 


282 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


“Fog's thickenin’,” observed the captain, 
squinting seaward. 

As he remarked, the mist was indeed increas- 
ing in density, shrouding the surroundings of 
the camp completely and covering the trees and 
bushes with condensed moisture, which dripped 
in a slow, melancholy sort of way from their 
limbs. 

“Bad weather for ships,” observed Merritt. 

“Yer may well say that, my lad, and this is a 
powerful bad part uv the coast ter be navigatin’ 
on in a fog. I’ve heard it said that there’s a lot 
uv iron in the Long Island shoals and that this 
deflects the compasses uv ships that stay too near 
in shore in a fog. I don’t know how that may 
be, I don’t place a lot uv stock in it myself, but 
I do know that steamers and vessels uv all kinds 
go ashore here more than seems ter be natural.” 

As he finished speaking there came through 
the fog a sound that fitted in so well with the 
subject of his conversation that it almost seemed 
an accompaniment to it. ^ 

“Who-oo-oo-oo !” 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


283 


"A steamer's siren," exclaimed Rob. 

"That's what it is, lad," assented the old sailor, 
as the sound came again, booming through the 
fog with a melancholy cadence. 

"Who-o-o-o-o-o !" roared the siren once more. 

"I'll bet the feller who's on the bridge uv that 
ship is havin' his own troubles just about now," 
remarked the captain, "hark at that!" 

The whistle was now roaring like a wounded 
bull, sending distinct vibrations of sound through 
the increasing fog billows. 

"Thick as pea soup," commented the captain, 
refilling his pipe, "reckon I'll have ter stay here 
till she lifts a bit. Wind's hauled to the sou' west 
too. Bad quarter means more fog and smother.” 

“Who-o-o-o-o !" boomed the siren of the hidden 
vessel once more, and this time it was answered 
by another whistle somewhere further off in the 
fog. 

"Two uv 'em now. Stand by fer a collision," 
shouted the captain, while the scouts, intensely 
interested in the development of this hidden 
drama of the fog, clustered about him. 


284 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

“Who-o-o-o-o ! Who-o-o-o-o ! Who-o-o-o-o !” 
came the nearest siren. 

“She’s standin’ in shore,” shouted the captain, 
“boys, she’s in grave danger.” 

“What’s she coming in for?” asked Merritt. 

“I suppose her skipper thinks he’s got plenty 
uv water under his keel and wants ter give a wide 
berth ter the other vessel,” explained the captain. 
“Boys, if only we had a big bell or a steam whis- 
tle we could warn them poor fellows uv their 
peril.” 

“It does seem hard to hear them blundering in 
and not be able to warn them,” agreed Rob, 
“there should have been a lighthouse put on these 
shoals long ago.” 

“Right yer are, boy, but the government is a 
slow-movin’ vessel and hard ter get under way.” 

The boys had to laugh at this odd way of ex- 
pressing the difficulty of getting new lights 
erected, but they knew as well almost as their 
companion the dangers of the ocean off this part 
of Long Island. 

The whistle boomed out its wailing note again. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


285 

“Closer and closer/’ lamented the captain, 
“what’s the matter with those lubbers. Yer’d 
think they’d have a leadsman out.” 

All at once the catastrophe for which they had 
been more or less prepared happened. So quickly 
did it come that they had not time to speak. 

The echoes of the last note of the siren had 
hardly died out when there came a loud explo- 
sion. 

“Bang!” 

“A signal gun,” roared the captain. 

“They are calling for help?” asked Rob. 

“That’s it, my boy. They’ve struck, just as I 
thought they would.” 

The distress gun sounded again. 

“They’re in a bad mess by the sound uv that,” 
said the captain. 

“It doesn’t sound as if they were more than 
half a mile or so out,” remarked Rob. 

“I guess they’re not. Hark at that! They 
must be scared ter death.” 

The gun was fired three times in rapid suc- 
cession. 


286 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


“They’ll never hear that at Lone Hill life sav- 
in’ station,” grimly commented the captain, 
“and this fog’s too thick fer them ter see her.” 

“Do you imagine she is badly damaged, cap- 
tain?” asked Rob anxiously. The idea of the 
stranded ship lost in the dense fog affected him 
strangely. 

“Can’t tell,” the captain replied to his ques- 
tion, “may have stove a hole in herself and be 
sinking now.” 

“Can’t we do something to help them?” asked 
Merritt eagerly. 

“Only one thing we can do, boy, and that’s i 
full uv danger.” 

“What is it?” demanded Rob, ignoring the last 
part of the captain’s speech. 

“Get in ther boat and go out thar to ’em. If 
they’re sinkin’ we can help ’em a whole lot, 
and ” 

The captain stopped short in amazement. 

Rob, Merritt and Tubby had already started 
for the beach and Hiram, “the wireless scout,” 
was close on their heels. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 287 

“Well, douse my toplights,” exclaimed the 
captain, rising to his feet and lumbering after 
them, “yer can’t beat the Boy Scouts.” 



288 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

A MEETING IN THE tog — CONCLUSION. 

“Can you make her out?” 

Five pairs of eyes peered through the mist 
that hung like a white pall on every side of the 
Flying Fish. 

“Stop that motor a minute, while I listen!” 

In compliance with Rob’s order Merritt shut 
down the panting engine. 

“What’s that noise off there?” asked Kiram 
suddenly. 

“That sort of throbbing sound?” rejoined 
Tubby Hopkins. 

“That’s it, sounds like a big heart beating,” 
put in Rob. 

“I guess that’s their engine. They’re tryin’ 
ter back her off,” suggested the captain. 

“Give them a blast on that fog-horn and see 
if they answer,” said Rob suddenly. 

Hiram took up the big brass fish-horn, used 


THE EAGLE PATROL 289 

as a fog signal on the Flying Fish , and blew a 
loud, long call. 

After an interval of waiting, from out of the 
mist came the wail of the stranded ship’s siren 
once more. 

“There she is, right in there,” declared the 
captain, pointing seaward into the mist. “Steer 
right on that tack, Rob, and we’ll pick her up 
pretty soon.” 

The motor was started up once more and the 
Flying Fish forged ahead through the smother. 
Suddenly Rob, with a sharp cry of : 

“Stop her!” swung his wheel over sharp and 
the Flying Fish headed about. 

The gleaming black rampart of a large ves- 
sel’s side had suddenly loomed up dead ahead of 
him. 

“Ahoy! aboard the steamer,” roared the cap- 
tain, framing his mouth with his hands, “what 
ship is that?” 

“The El Paso from London to New York,” 
came back a hail from somewhere above them in 
a somewhat surprised tone, “who are you?” 


290 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


“The Flying Fish of Hampton, Long Island,” 
responded Rob, with a laugh. 

“Never heard of her,” responded the voice, 
“we’re hard aground on one of your Long Island 
shoals it seems.” 

“That’s what yer are,” exclaimed the captain, 
“how come yer ter be huggin’ the shore so hard?” 

“Trying to avoid a collision with another ves- 
sel.” 

“Are yer all right?” bellowed the captain. 

“Seem to be. So far as we can find out there’s 
not a plate started, but if you’re from the land 
we’ve got a couple of passengers we’d be thank- 
ful if you’d take ashore. Will you come on 
board?” 

“Sure, if yer’ll drop a Jacob’s ladder,” bel- 
lowed the captain at the invisible speaker. 

“In a minute.” 

The conversation had been carried on without 
either of the parties to it being able to see one 
another, but the captain of the vessel — for he 
had been the boy’s interlocutor — now came off 
the bridge and with some of the crew watched 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


291 

two sailors lower a Jacob’s ladder and make it 
fast to the rail. 

“Now we’ll go aboard,” said Captain Hudgins, 
clambering up the swaying contrivance as nimbly 
as an athlete, “make our painter fast ter the 
ladder, Rob.” 

This being done, the boys followed the veteran 
on board. The steamer, when they gained her 
deck, puzzled them a good deal and it was not 
till her captain, a genial blond-bearded Brit- 
isher, explained to them that she was a cattle 
ship that they understood the utility of the wooden 
structures with which her decks were obstructed. 

The captain explained that these were pens for 
the cattle she expected to take back to England, 
from which country she was returning after hav- 
ing taken over a large consignment of steers. 

“Which,” went on the captain, “brings us to 
my passengers. They are Mr. Frank Harkness 
and his son, of Lariat, a small cattle town in the 
West, where Mr. Harkness has a large ranch. 
They were his cattle that we took over and as he 
had difficulty in engaging a berth on a liner at 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


292 

this time of year, when the passenger ships are 
crowded he decided to return with us. Here is 
Mr. Harkness now,” he added, as a tall, bronzed 
man, with a long coat draped over a pair of broad 
shoulders, and a wide-brimmed sombrero above 
keen eyes, approached. 

“Visitors from the shore, captain?” he inquired, 
a pleasant smile illuminating his clean-shaven, 
sun-browned face. 

“That’s what they are,” rejoined the captain, 
“just dropped in on us, don’t you know.” 

“You mean we dropped in on them,” amended 
the other with a laugh, “come here, Harry,” he 
called, raising his voice, “we’ve got some com- 
pany out of the fog.” 

In response to his call a lad about the age of 
Rob appeared from the after-end of the ship, 
where the cabins were, and greeted the boys with 
a smile and a nod. He, like his father, wore a 
sombrero and was quite as sunburned. For the 
rest he was well-knit and athletic looking and had 
evidently lived an out-door life. 

“Well, we are getting plenty of experiences 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


293 


away from the ranch, eh, Harry ?” observed his 
father, after the boys and the captain had intro- 
duced themselves, and there had been a great 
and ceremonious hand-shaking all round. 

“We just naturally are,” responded the ranch- 
er’s son. “Say, captain,” he went on, “when 
do you expect to get off?” 

“If we are not too badly hung up we ought to 
get off at high-water,” rejoined the Britisher. 

“That won’t be till late to-night,” observed 
Rob. 

“If I could only get a tug we might do better,” 
observed the captain, “in fact, since I’ve had the 
engines going I don’t think we can back off 
under our own power.” 

“Have you got a wireless?” asked Hiram, his 
pet subject uppermost. 

“Yes, but our operator went ashore in Lon- 
don and I guess he had too good a time ; anyhow 
he never showed up so we had to cross without 
one. 

“Is she working?” asked Hiram interestedly. 

“Sure, there’s plenty of ‘juice’ as the operators 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


294 

call it. I tried to work it coming over/’ laughed 
Harry, “but outside of getting a proper shock, I 
didn't do much.” 

“I'll send out a signal for a tug,” said Hiram 
quietly, “there's a station at Fire Island. They'll 
pick up the message and transmit it.” 

“What — you can work a wireless ?” 

“A little bit,” said the lad modestly. 

“Come on, I'll show you the way,” said the 
delighted captain, starting off with Hiram, and 
followed by the others. 

“Say, don't think it personal of me, will you?” 
remarked Harry Harkness to Rob as they fol- 
lowed, “but would you mind telling me what you 
all are wearing those uniforms for?” 

“Why, we're Boy Scouts,” rejoined Rob 
proudly, and went on to explain just what the 
organization is. 

“Say, that's great,” exclaimed Harry enthu- 
siastically, “I'd like to form a patrol out at Lariat. 
Do you reckon I could?” 

“I don't doubt it,” rejoined Rob, smiling at 
the Western boy’s enthusiasm. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


295 


“By cracky, I'll do it,” went on Harry Hark- 
ness, ‘Til make it a mounted patrol and if we 
don't get old ‘Silver Tip' then, besides all the 
other sport we'll have, call me a coyote.” 

“Who or what is old Silver Tip?” asked Rob, 
somewhat interested in his breezy new acquaint- 
ance. 

“Silver Tip is a grizzly,” explained Harry, “a 
grizzly bear you know. Dad says he’s the biggest 
he’s ever seen and he seems to bear — excuse the 
pun, please — he seems to bear a charmed life. 
All the boys on the ranch are crazy to get a shot 
at him, but they've never been able to.” 

“Say, that sounds bully,” agreed Rob, “I wish 
I could get out West for a while.” 

“It's a great country,” said Harry sagely, as 
they entered the wireless room, where Hiram was 
already bending over the instrument sending out 
a message for aid, while the blue spark leaped 
and crackled across its gap. The others gazed 
on admiringly as Hiram, having completed his 
message, adjusted the detector on his head and 
awaited an answer. 


296 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

It soon came. Tugs would be despatched as 
soon as the fog lifted, the operator at Fire Island 
announced. 

"That’s a weight off my mind,” breathed the 
captain, while Harry hastily confided to his 
father that the lads who had boarded the vessel 
out of the mist were Boy Scouts. 

"The fog is lifting,” announced Rob, as they 
streamed out of the wireless room. 

"Yes, the wind has shifted,” remarked Cap- 
tain Hudgins. "I guess it was that sou’west 
breeze that brought the mist. She’s hauled ter 
the nor’west now, and in an hour’s time it will be 
clear.” 

"I wonder if you boys can put us ashore,” said 
Mr. Harkness, as the group walked aft to the 
captain’s cabin ; "I would be very grateful if you 
could. It seems that it will be some time before 
the steamer is cleared, and I am anxious to make 
a train for the West.” 

The boys agreed to land the ranchman and 
his son as soon as the fog cleared off, which, as 
the captain had prophesied, it did in about an 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


297 

hour's time. The boys had spent the interim 
in exploring the ship and listening to Harry 
Harkness’s tales of the ranch and the marvelous 
exploits of Silver Tip, the huge grizzly, who de- 
rived his name, it appeared, from a spot of white 
fur on his breast. In fact, so fast did they get 
on, that by the time Harry and his father were 
called by Captain Hudgins to embark in the 
Flying Fish, the boys had become fast friends. 

The run to the shore was made quickly and 
by landing the two travelers at a point above 
Hampton they were enabled to make a train that 
would land them in the city in time for dinner. 
Mr. Harkness whiled away the trip by plying the 
boys with all sorts of questions about the Boy 
Scouts and seemed greatly interested in their 
answers. Altogether the boys felt quite sorry 
when it came time to part at the wharf at Farm- 
ingdale, the place where the rancher and his son 
were put ashore. 

“Well, good-by, boys,” said Mr. Harkness, 
holding out a big hand to Rob, who took it and 


298 THE BOY SCOUTS OF 

was amazed to find a twenty dollar gold piece 
slipped into his palm by the ranchman. 

“Oh, I couldn’t think of taking that,” he said, 
insisting on handing it back despite the ranch- 
man’s protests, “I appreciate your motive, but I 
couldn’t think of taking any money for an ordi- 
nary courtesy.” 

“By Sam Hooker, you’re right, boy,” cried the 
ranchman heartily, 1 rd it’s a privilege to meet 
such a bunch of fine lads. I thought all you 
Easterners were a bunch of stuck-up tenderfeet, 
but I find I’m wrong — anyhow so far as the Boy 
Scouts are concerned.” 

A few minutes later the rancher and his son 
were hastening to the railroad station, followed 
by the boys’ eyes. As they entered the depot, 
just in time to catch the New York train — they 
waved a hearty farewell and the boys waved and 
shouted in return. 

“We’ve only known them a few hours, but I 
feel as if I’d just said good-by to two friends,” 
said Rob as they turned away and prepared to 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


299 

go back to the island in their boat and break 
camp. 

“So do I,” said Tubby; “I wonder if we'll ever 
see them again." 

“No, I guess they're kind of 'ships that pass 
in the night,' " laughed Merritt, “however, I'm 
glad we did them a good turn." 

The boys, however, were destined to meet the 
ranchers again and to have many strange and 
exciting adventures, among which the ultimate 
downfall of Silver Tip was to be one. Could 
they have looked into the future, too, they would 
have seen that in the Far West they were to face 
dangers and difficulties of which they had as yet 
never dreamed and were to be the victims of the 
malicious contrivings of Bill Bender and our 
old acquaintance, Jack Curtiss. 

A few weeks after the events related above 
there was great excitement in Hampton over the 
announcement that Merritt's courageous act of 
life-saving and the achievements of the other 
young scouts of the Eagle Patrol were to receive 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 


3 °° 

official recognition. A field secretary of the or- 
ganization arrived at the village one evening and 
was met at the depot by the Patrol in full uniform 
and with the village band drawn up at their 
head. Proudly, under the Eagle standard, they 
marched to the Town Hall, which had been il- 
luminated in a style the villagers would never 
have believed possible and were greeted by the 
local committee headed by Commodore Wingate 
and Mr. Blake. 

“Three cheers for the Boy Scouts!” came from 
a voice in the back of the crowded hall after the 
honors had been distributed and the advances in 
rank announced. 

The shout that went up cracked the plaster on 
the ceiling of the venerable building. 

“Speech, speech,” shouted one of those indi- 
viduals who always do raise that cry on the 
slightest excuse. 

Rob Blake, very red and protesting, was 
hustled to the front of the stage on which the 
Scouts had been drawn up. 

“I can’t make a speech,” he began. 


THE EAGLE PATROL 


301 

“Hear! Hear!” shouted the crowd, most of 
whom couldn’t. 

“But on behalf of the Boy Scouts I want to 
thank you all and — and ” 

The rest was drowned by the band which, hav- 
ing been quiescent for ten whole minutes, could 
maintain silence no longer and blared out into 
that favorite of all village bands, “Hail to the 
Chief.” 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” whispered 
Rob to Merritt, whose breast was decorated with 
the coveted bronze cross and red ribbon, which 
is the highest honor a scout can attain. 

As they slipped out upon the darkened street a 
boy came up to them with an outstretched hand. 

“I want to tell you I’m sorry for the part I 
played in the mean tricks Jack Curtiss and Bill 
Bender put up on you fellows,” he said contritely, 
“will you shake hands?” 

“Sure we will, Sam Redding,” responded Mer- 
ritt, extending his palm, while Rob did likewise. 

“At that,” added Merritt, “I guess we win.” 

And here, with their former enemy become a 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


3° 2 

remorseful friend, we will, for the present, leave 
the Boy Scouts — to renew our acquaintance with 
them in the next volume of this series which will 
be called : “The Boy Scouts on the Range.” 


THE End. 


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CbeOakdaleSeries 


By 

Morgan 

Scott 

* 

Bigb Class 
Copyrighted 
Stories 
for Boys 

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Boys of Oakdale 

Academy it?organ Scott 

i 2 mo„ cloth. Illustrated. Price, 6oc 

T HIS is a brisk, vigorous, snappy, 
story in which winter sports — 
snowshoeing, skating, rabbit 
hunting, and such — are features. In 
the tale Rodney Grant, a young 
Texas cowboy, appears at Oakdale 
and attends the academy, being ad- 
judged an imposter by the New 
England lads, who entertain a mis- 
taken notion that all Texans swagger 
and bluster and talk in the vernac- 
ular. As Grant is quiet and gentle- 
manly in his bearing and will not, 
for some mysterious reason, take 
part in certain violent sports, they 
erroneously imagine him to be a 
coward ; but eventually, through the 
demands of necessity and force of 
circumstances, the fellow from Texas 
is led to prove himself, which he 
does in a most effective manner, be- 
coming, for the time being, at least, 
the hero of the village. This is a 
story of vigorous, healthy boys and 
their likes and dislikes ; it is brim- 
ming over with human nature and, 
while true to real life, is as fascinat- 
ing as the most imaginative yarn of 
adventure. 


Burst $f CO., 395 Broadway, HCW VOfK 


The Oakdale Series 

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HIGH CLASS COPYRIGHTED STORIES 
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Ben Stone at Oakdale 

BY MORGAN SCOTT 

12mo. , CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED. PRICE 60o 

N EVER in the history of juvenile fiction have copy- 
righted books of this class been sold at a price 
so sensational, for beyond dispute the Oakdale 
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no respect, save in price, can these be designated as 
cheap books ; in manufacture, in literary finish, and in 
the cean, healthy, yet fascinating, nature of the stories 
they are destined to take rank with the works of the 
masters of fiction for the modern youth. The first 
volume is a narrative of school life and football, which, 
while in no way sensational, will cast a spell almost 
hypnotic upon every young reader, from which he will 
find it impossible to escape until he has read through to 
the last word of the last chapter. The tale of the 
struggles of Ben Stone, a boy misunderstood, an out- 
cast, a pariah, will excite the sympathy of all ; and his 
final triumph over adversity, the scheming of an 
enemy, and the seemingly malign rebuffs of fate, will 
be hailed with joy. 



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The Oakdale Series 

by Morgan Scott 

High Class Copyrighted Stories for Boys 
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Rival Pitchers of Oakdale 

by Morgan Scott 

12mo„ cloth. Illustrated. Price, 60c 

T T NDENIABLY, Morgan Scott possesses 
^ the rare quality of understanding boy 
nature, and the still rarer art of describing 
it in stories for boys. The characters de- 
picted in the majority of juvenile books are 
mere creatures of wood or straw, the authors 
relying for interest, in most cases, upon more 
or less exciting adventures and thrilling sit- 
uations ; but, while Mr. Scott does not 
disdain adventure or excitement, his charac- 
ters, one and all, are creatures of flesh and 
blood, real live boys whom the reader quickly 
comes to know almost as well as he knows 
his own particular chums and associates. For 
this reason the books of this author possess a 
fascination seldom found in other juveniles. 
Moreover, Mr. Scott is well versed — almost 
an authority — in all outdoor sports, which en- 
ables him to write of them with that accuracy 
which alone is satisfactory to boys who in- 
dulge in them. In the present volume he 
has told a tale of rivalries, jealousies, heart 
burnings and intrigues, with baseball the 
feature, which ends, however, in a most 
satisfactory manner. 

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BOY AVIATORS’ SERIES 

By Captain Wilbur Lawton 

Absolutely Modern Stories for Boys 
Cloth Bound Price, 50c per volume 


The Boy Aviators on Secret Service 

Or, Working With Wireless 

In this live-wire narrative of peril and adventure, 
laid in the Everglades of Florida, the spunky Chester 
Boys and their interesting chums, including Ben Stubbs, 
the maroon, encounter exciting experiences on Uncle 
Sam's service in a novel field. One must read this 
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the two greatest inventions of modern times — the aero- 
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holding the reader’s breathless attention from the open- 
ing words to the finish, this swift-moving story is at 
the same time instructive and uplifting. As those 
readers who have already made friends with Frank and 
Harry Chester and their “bunch” know, there are few 
difficulties, no matter how insurmountable they may 
seem at first blush, that these up-to-date gritty youths 
cannot overcome with flying colors. A clean-cut, real 
boys' book of high voltage. 


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By Captain Wilbur Lawton 

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The Boy Aviators in Nicaragua 

Or, Leagued With insurgents 

The launching of this Twentieth Century series marks 
the inauguration of a new era in boys’ books — the 
“wonders of modern science” epoch. Frank and Harry 
Chester, the Boy Aviators, are the heroes of this excit- 
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the turbulent Central American republic. The two 
brothers with their $10,000 prize aeroplane, the Golden 
Eagle, rescue a chum from death in the clutches of the 
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lives in the Abyss of the White Serpents, and have many 
other exciting experiences, including being blown far 
out to sea in their air-skimmer in a tropical storm. It 
would be unfair to divulge the part that wireless plays 
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their aeroplane seem destined to fill a top-notch place. 
These books are technically correct, wholesomely thrill- 
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BOY AVIATORS’ SERIES 

BY CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON 

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The Boy Aviators Treasure Quest 

Or, The Qolden Galleon 

Everybody is a boy once more when it comes to the 
question of hidden treasure. In this book. Captain Lawton 
has set forth a hunt for gold that is concealed neither 
under the sea nor beneath the earth, but is well hidden 
for all that. A garrulous old sailor, who holds the key 
to the mystery of the Golden Galleon, plays a large 
part in the development of the plot of this fascinating 
narrative of treasure hunting in the region of the Gulf 
Stream and the Sagasso Sea. An aeroplane fitted with effi- 
cient pontoons — enabling her to skim the water success- 
fully — has long been a dream of aviators. The Chester 
Boys seem to have solved the problem. The Sagasso, 
that strange drifting ocean within an ocean, holding ships 
of a dozen nations and a score of ages, in its relentless 
grip, has been the subject of many books of adventure 
and mystery, but in none has the secret of the ever 
shifting mass of treacherous currents been penetrated as 
it has in the BOY AVIOTORS TREASURE QUEST. 
Luther Barr, whom it seemed the boys had shaken off, 
is still on their trail, in this absorbing book and with a 
dirigible balloon, essays to beat them out in their search 
for the Golden Galleon. Every boy, every man — and 
woman and girl — who has ever felt the stirring summons 
of adventure in their souls, had better get hold of this 
book. Once obtained, it will be read and re-read till 
it falls to rags. 


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The Boy Aviators Polar Dash 

Or, Facing Death in the Antarctic 

If you were to hear that two boys, accompanying a South 
Polar expedition in charge of the aeronautic department, 
were to penetrate the Antarctic regions — hitherto only 
attained by a few daring explorers — you would feel inter- 
ested, wouldn’t you? Well, in Captain Lawton’s latest 
book, concerning his Boy Aviators, you can not only read 
absorbing adventure in the regions south of the eightieth 
parallel, but absorb much useful information as well. 
Captain Lawton introduces — besides the original charac- 
ters of the heroes — a new creation in the person of Pro- 
fessor Simeon Sandburr, a patient seeker for polar in- 
sects. The professor’s adventures in his quest are the 
cause of much merriment, and lead once or twice to 
serious predicaments. In a volume so packed with incident 
and peril from cover to cover — relieved with laughable 
mishaps to the professor — it is difficult to single out any 
one feature; still, a recent reader of it wrote the pub- 
lishers an enthusiastic letter the other day, saying: “The 
episodes above the Great Barrier are thrilling, the attack 
of the condors in Patagonia made me hold my breath, 
the — but what’s the use? The Polar Dash, to my mind, 
is an even more entrancing book than Captain Lawton’s 
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tion features and their technical correctness are by no 
means the least attractive features of this up-to-date 
creditable volume.” 


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The Boy Aviators in Africa 

Or, An Aerial Ivory Trail 

In this absorbing book we meet, on a Continent made 
famous by the American explorer Stanley, and ex-Presi- 
dent Roosevelt, our old friends, the Chester Boys and 
their stalwart chums. In Africa — the Dark Continent — 
the author follows in exciting detail his young heroes, 
their voyage in the first aeroplane to fly above the mys- 
terious forests and unexplored ranges of the mystic land. 
In this book, too, for the first time, we entertain Luther 
Barr, the old New York millionaire, who proved later 
such an implacable enemy of the boys. The story of his 
defeated schemes, of the astonishing things the boys dis- 
covered in the Mountains of the Moon, of the pathetic 
fate of George Desmond, the emulator of Stanley, the 
adventure of the Flying Men and the discovery of the 
Arabian Ivory cache, — this is not the place to speak. It 
would be spoiling the zest of an exciting tale to reveal 
the outcome of all these episodes here. It may be said, 
however, without “giving away” any of the thrilling 
chapters of this narrative, that Captain Wilbur Lawton, 
the author, is in it in his best vein, and from his personal 
experiences in Africa has been able to supply a striking 
background for the adventures of his young heroes. As 
one newspaper says of this book: “Here is adventure in 
good measure, pressed down and running over.” 


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COUPON BONDS. 

CUDJO’S CAVE. 

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MARTIN MERRYVALE, HIS X MARK. 
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LUCY ARLYN. 

NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 

THE THREE SCOUTS. 

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scattered broadcast and 
eagerly sought for. Oliver 
Optic has the faculty of writing books full of 
dash and energy, such as healthy boys want 
and need. 


ALL ABOARD; or. Life on the Lake. 

BOAT CLUB; or, The Bunkers of Rippleton. 

BRAVE OLD SALT; or, Life on the Quarter Deck. 

DO SOMETHINGS; a Story for Little Folks. 

FIGHTING JOE; or, The Fortunes of a Staff Officer. 

IN SCHOOL AND OUT; or, The Conquest of Richard 
Grant. 

LITTLE BY LITTLE ; or, The Cruise of the Flyaway. 
LITTLE MERCHANT ; a Story for Little Folks. 

NOW OR NEVER; or, The Adventures of Bobby Bright. 
POOR AND PROUD; or, The Fortunes of Katie Red- 
burn. 

PROUD AND LAZY; a Story for Little Folks. 

RICH AND HUMBLE; or The Mission of Bertha Grant. 
SAILOR BOY ; or. Jack Somers in the Navy. 

SOLDIER BOY ; or, Tom Somers in the Army. 

TRY AGAIN ; or, The Trials and Triumphs of Harry 
West. 

WATCH AND WAIT; or, The Young Fugitives. 

WORK AND WIN; or, Noddy Newman on a Cruise. 

THE YANKEE MIDDY ; or, The Adventures of a Naval 
Officer. 

YOUNG LIEUTENANT; or, The Adventures of an 
Army Officer. 

Any of tliese books will be maUeO, postpaid, 
upon receipt of 50c. 

°t. our complete catalogue— sent anywhere. 

JIURST & CO., Publishers, NEW YORK 





BIOGRAPHICAL 

LIBRARY 

01 the Lives ol Great Men 

A limited line comprising- 
subjects pertaining to the 
careers of men who have 
helped to mould the world's 
history. A library is incom- 
plete without the entire set. 


Benjamin Franklin, Life of — American Statesman and 
Discoverer of Electricity. 

Christopher Columbus, Life of — Discoverer of Amer- 
ica. 

Daniel Boone, Life of — Famous Kentucky Explorer 
and Scout. 

Daniel Webster, Life of — American Statesman and 
Diplomat. 

Distinguished American Orators — Who Have Helped 
to Mould American Events. 

Eminent Americans — Makers of United States History. 

John Gutenberg, Life of — Inventor of Printing, 

Napoleon and His Marshals — Celebrated French Gen- 
eral and Commander. 

Orators of the American Revolution — Whose 
Speeches Ring With Patriotism. 

Paul Jones, Life of — American Naval Hero. 

Patrick Henry, Life of — Distinguished American 
Orator and Patriot. 

Philip H. Sheridan, Life of — “Little Phil”; Famous 
Union General During the Civil War. 

Washington and His Generals — First President of 
the United States, Revolutionary Army General and 
Statesman. 


Any book mailed, postage paid, upon receipt of 50c. 

Send for Our Complete Book Catalogue. 

HURST S CO. Publishers, NEW Y09K 
























































































































































































































































































